


This Boy, He Is My Friend

by wbss21



Category: Avengers, Thor - Fandom
Genre: Bullying, Bullying of a handicapped person, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Trauma, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Laufey's A + Parenting, Loki Has Issues, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki angst/wump, Loki is in a wheelchair, Mental Abuse, Neglect, PTSD, Physical absuse, Thor is a good friend, Trust Issues, handicapped character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:44:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4846250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wbss21/pseuds/wbss21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life couldn't be going better for Thor Odinson. Recently accepted into UCLA on an athletic's scholarship, there with all his best friends from high school, and having possibly found the perfect girl, life is good. And then one day he meets a man, really more of a boy, named Loki, confined to a wheelchair, and starts to see for the first time what true hardship is. Thor AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

Thor's concentration on the book in front of him is shattered as a balled up piece of paper bounces off his forehead, and looking up, he sees Fandral grinning at him like an idiot, bursting out into raucous laughter a moment later. Thor shakes his head, only able to feign annoyance a brief second before he too is laughing aloud, balling up his own work sheet and chucking it at his friend's face.

Fandral dodges and his laughter grows louder still.

"Missed!" He practically shouts, and that only encourages Thor to try again, grabbing hold another work sheet and crushing it up. This time it hits his friend square between the eyes.

"HA!" Thor barks loudly.

"Guys, you're gonna get us in trouble." Sif chuckles beside them, writing something in her notebook.

"Oh, come on Siffy, it's not like you're actually studying." Fandral accuses her, still grinning. "You can stop pretending now."

"As a matter of fact…" Sif begins, and is cut promptly off by a balled up piece of paper cuffing her ear.

Thor can't help the peel of rumbling laughter which erupts from his throat then.

They really are going to get in trouble. They're supposed to be studying, the four of them. They'd made a concerted effort even, agreeing to meet up at the university library this morning and actually dedicate at least a couple of hours to, well, work. They needed to, considering all of them were struggling grades wise lately. Well, except for Sif. She'd managed to maintain mostly B's and A's over the first semester of college, but the rest of them were already dipping into the C's and even hovering dangerously close to the D's area.

Thor knew his parents would kill him if they knew, especially Dad. He also knew sooner or later they'd find out.

It was just… he'd been having probably the best time of his life ever since starting here, with all his best friends from high school having joined him, and already making a name for himself on the football team. He'd gotten in on an athletics scholarship, not that he'd particularly needed such. His family was wealthy, and could have afforded to send him to any school. And it wasn't as if Thor hadn't had options. He'd been accepted into a slew of Ivey Leagues, Yale and Harvard and Brown. In the end though, he'd chosen UCLA, since that's where his friends had chosen to go, and he wanted to stay with them. He knew he'd made the right decision too.

He didn't think he could be any happier than he was now. Things were going well. His grades could be better, but he was making waves on the field, his name already being banded about by NFL scouts coming out to see him practice and play. Volstagg, Hogun and Fandral were getting some interest too, and of course, Sif was the top swimmer and fencer on both her teams. He had all his friends, and had begun to even make some new ones. Clint and Tony and Steve and Natasha, they were all good friends already, despite having only just met a few months prior.

Plus there was this cutey he'd spotted walking around the physic's building, named Jane Foster. He hadn't gotten the courage up yet to ask her out, but he would soon. And he liked to think she was interested back, if the way he'd caught her staring at him a few times was any indication.

Life was good, clichéd as that sounded. And, as Thor was discovering now, it was difficult to focus sometimes on dry, boring text books when you were surrounded by the best parts of that life.

"Aww, lighten up Sif!" He rumbles, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her against him. "We're just having some fun."

"Clearly." Sif snorts, half-heartedly shoving him off. Her surly attitude lasts only an instant though, before she too has a grin breaking out across her face, and it's only a matter of seconds then before all four of them are chucking their respective study notes across the table at one another, laughing uproariously.

Thor supposes it shouldn't surprise them as much as it does when a clear, cold voice, thickly accented, cuts across their good time.

"Excuse me." It says, and the four of them freeze, glancing aside and towards its owner.

Almost immediately, Thor feels himself stiffen, a wave of awkward and mortified nervousness washing through him.

It's a man, well… really more of a boy. He can't be older than 17 or 18. And it strikes Thor almost immediately how incredibly good looking he is, with sharply defined features, a straight, long nose, high and chiseled cheek bones, thin lips and jet black hair contrasting wildly with maybe the palest skin Thor has ever seen. Topping it all off, the kid has eyes so vividly green they seem almost to glow, and the cutting intelligence is plainly apparent within his gaze.

Only… the kid is in a wheelchair, and immensely, painfully thin. It looks like a stiff breeze might snap him in two.

He's glaring at all of them with such clear disdain that it's almost intimidating. Or, it would be, if he wasn't… like he is.

Quickly then, Thor's nervousness gives way to a wave of shame.

"You're either going to have to keep it down or I'm going to have to ask you to leave." The kid goes on, his voice clipped and frustrated. There's nothing remotely friendly about his demeanor. Thor thinks maybe it's made more pronounced by just how sophisticated the kid's voice sounds.

"Uh, sorry," Fandral starts. "but isn't it, like, a rule that only the librarian can throw us out?"

"I work here." The kid tells him flatly, staring at him with unflinching intensity, before moving his gaze around to all four of them. "So as you've no doubt gleaned, I'm well within my jurisdiction to do just that. Either you keep it down and allow the students here who actually came to study to do so, or you leave. I've no issue with calling security if I have to."

"Jeeze, lighten up, will ya?" Fandral says back. "We were just having a little fun."

"And you're preventing others from accomplishing their important work by doing so." The kid shoots back in an instant. "What's it going to be?"

Volstagg snorts, rolling his eyes.

"Don't get your panties in a wad, stick boy." Fandral sneers then, losing his own sense of humor. "We'll be going."

The kid seems unbothered by the insult, his expression unreadable still as he gives a single nod.

"Good." He says, putting his hands on the wheels of his chair and beginning to turn.

"And hey, nice sweater vest!" Fandral spits out at him before he can move away. "Let me guess, you aren't winning any popularity contests lately?"

Thor reaches out and smacks his friend along the shoulder, shaking his head at him.

But the kid's already stopped, looking back over his shoulder at them, his face still without any real emotion.

"Very good." He says. "I'm sure I've never heard the like. Now, kindly do as you said and go, or I'll be calling security."

With that, the kid says nothing more, wheeling himself away, back towards the check out desks.

Only Thor finds himself unable take his eyes off of him, an uneasy guilt working up through his insides as he watches the kid reach the desks, maneuvering himself behind them, and then, with obvious and painful difficulty, he lifts himself out of his wheelchair, his thin arms shaking visibly, even from halfway across the room.

For a moment, it seems, the kid is actually standing on his own, two legs, but it becomes clear he isn't able to maintain it, as he literally falls forward, his hands shooting out to catch himself along the back of a higher up seat, pulling himself forward and dragging himself up into it. He slumps backwards then, his chest heaving as he sucks in deep breathes from the excursion of the effort, his eyes closing a moment.

Christ, Thor thinks, that was awful. To not even be able to walk…

"Man, what an uptight dickbag." Fandral's voice breaks through his thoughts, and Thor's eyes snap to him, watching as his friend begins to gather his books into his backpack, Sif, Hogun and Volstagg already doing the same.

And suddenly an inexplicable anger boils up, nearly choking Thor in it's intensity.

"Fandral, shut the fuck up." He says.

Fandral blinks at him, for a moment clearly taken aback.

"What?" He asks finally. "Oh, I'm supposed to feel sorry for the little jerk just because he's in a wheelchair?"

"You might try being a little more sympathetic." Thor snaps back. "He's just doing his job."

Fandral pulls a face like he can't believe what he's hearing.

"Since when did you become Mr. Sensitive?" He asks, incredulous. "Come on Thor. He was a total asshole."

"Yeah, well… maybe he's just sick of having to tell assholes like us to be quiet." Thor mutters, beginning to stuff his own materials into his pack.

"Look at this! I can't believe it!" Fandral replies. "Man, we better get outta here. I think the cripple's bad attitude is starting to rub off on Thor."

"Fandral, seriously," Sif starts, zipping up her backpack and swinging it over her shoulder. "shut up."

Fandral begins to sputter something else as they all begin to shuffle out of the library, but Thor hardly hears it. He looks back over his shoulder, towards the check out desk, and again sees the kid, helping someone now with their books.

There's an overwhelming urge in him then to go over and talk to the kid, to apologize and… and find out his name, maybe? Thor doesn't know. Only it doesn't feel right, just taking off after all of that.

Something about the kid…

Whatever feeling of happiness Thor had earlier felt seems to have gone completely, looking at him.

It feels now like his heart has sunk down to the very pit of him.


	2. Chapter 2

By the time he gets off the bus from campus and into the rundown section he calls his neighborhood, Loki's head is absolutely pounding, another migraine, the pain nauseating and dizzying in equal measure.

His hands shake badly as he takes hold the wheels of his chair and struggles to move himself down the cracked and weed infested pavement, towards the ramshackle building which houses his 800 square foot apartment.

It's always a struggle getting up to the second floor of the building, where his unit is. He used to have a first floor apartment, but it kept getting broken into, and after a while, the ease of its location just wasn't worth the risk of getting hurt.

As it is, it takes him the better part of fifteen minutes to reach the building, despite being only a block away from the bus stop, and another five or six to get up to the second floor. The elevator in this building is an utter piece of shit, taking forever to arrive whenever anyone calls it, and groaning and creaking along as it takes you up. Loki wonders often at the miracle that the cables haven't yet snapped and killed whatever poor soul happened to be riding inside it at the time.

Pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket, with his hands still shaking and his vision starting to blur, it's harder than it should be to get them into the lock and turn, pushing his apartment door open and wheeling himself past the threshold.

He's breathing heavily by the time he's inside and closed the door shut behind him, remembering, as always, to lock it and use the chain, even though it's harder still to reach up that high. He's nearly fallen out of his chair more than once doing so, but the extra security, useless though it may actually be, makes him feel better.

He doesn't waste any time then moving himself around and towards the tiny kitchenette, where he keeps all his medicines lined up along the counter. Again, it's a risk, having it all out in the open like that. Some thief would be all too happy to steal such expensive pills and sell them out on the street. But Loki can't reach the cabinets above the counter, and really, keeping them in a nightstand or some such would do nothing to prevent someone from stealing them. If they were determined enough to break into someone's home, then they were determined enough to look through all their things.

He nearly drops the bottle as he struggles to twist off the safety cap, the pain in his head growing worse by the second, his eyes starting to sting with the threat of tears. Pouring out two pills into his palm, he slaps them into his mouth and swallows them dry.

Now it's just a matter of waiting.

He's lucky, he supposes, that the pills are so fast acting, as it usually only takes five minutes for the things to kick in and get rid of his migraines. They ought to be so effective though, considering he spends nearly a quarter of his weekly paycheck on the things each month.

Still, it's an almost overwhelming relief when they start to work, and he can feel the penetrating agony through his skull at last start to subside, melting away into blissful numbness.

He slumps back in his chair, eyes closing as he allows himself a moment to enjoy the pleasure of no feeling at all.

He's broken from his quiet moment by the sound of a small mew down near his feet, and opening his eyes, he sees Michael staring up at him with wide, golden eyes.

Loki can't help smiling.

"Hey there little man." He greets the tabby kitten, bending forward and reaching down for him, picking him up easily and settling the tiny cat in his lap. Michael immediately begins kneading at the material of his pants, and Loki's smiles widens.

He'd gotten Michael recently. There'd been a set up on campus, an animal shelter adopting out cats and dogs to students and faculty, and Loki hadn't been able to resist. It had set him back $50.00 bucks after filling out the adoption papers and all the rest of it, but it had been completely worth it, Loki thinks, as he brings the little guy up and squishes him against his face, marveling at the softness of the kitten's fur, laughing lightly as the cat meows and presses his tiny, padded paws against his forehead.

"How was your day?" Loki asks him, holding him out to look at his face.

Cat's really are the most beautiful creatures, he thinks. They're faces are always so perfect.

Again, Michael meow's at him, and Loki smiles.

"Better than mine, I hope." He goes on talking, finally setting the kitten back down on the floor. "Here, let me get you your dinner."

Moving towards the lower cabinet where he keeps all of Michael's food, Loki goes on talking to the kitten as he grabs up a can of the wet stuff, peeling open the lid and dumping it into a bowl set alongside all his other dishes arranged across the counter top.

"I'm telling you Michael," he says, setting the dish down and watching as the kitten immediately darts up to the bowl, digging in with gusto. "it's as if some of these student's are doing it on purpose. It says right at the entrance to please be quiet, yet I find myself having to tell at least a dozen of them a day to keep it down. There was this one group today, I think they must have been the loudest yet. And this one boy, oh… he was absolutely abhorrent Michael. Just incredibly rude."

Loki shakes his head at the memory of four friends, laughing and shouting and throwing things at each other.

Loki just didn't understand that sort of behavior. These kid's had such a great opportunity. To be able to gain an education, really learn and expand themselves and their minds. And yet he constantly saw student's just like the group today, who didn't seem to take any of it seriously at all. Who showed no, real appreciation for being allowed it. Why, Loki thinks, if he'd had the money and the chance to go to school like that, he might well be the happiest person in the world. As it was, he took every available opportunity he had to learn. Working in a library helped. He got to basically just sit there and read all day, which he loved. He loved books, and found himself constantly wishing he could afford to buy more. But with a salary which paid him only $10.50 an hour, it just wasn't an option.

Still, he supposes he has no real cause to complain. The hardest part of his job is having to constantly go up to students and tell them to be quiet which, admittedly, sometimes gets a little ugly.

Like the boy today, making fun of the way he dresses and all that. It was hardly the first time someone had done so, and really, the insult was minor compared to a lot of the things people had said to him over the years. Still, it hurt sometimes. Loki knew he wasn't anyone's idea of "cool" and never would be. Especially compared to kids like that. Just looking at them, anyone would have been able to tell they were the popular sort. Good looking, athletic, hip. Especially that one guy, the big one, with the massively broad shoulders and sun colored hair.

That kid had been ridiculously good looking, with probably the bluest eyes Loki had ever seen, and the sort of square jawed, chiseled features you'd find in a comic book super hero. You could tell too, even dressed as he was in a loose hoody and jeans, that the kid was built like a shit brick-house. He looked about as strong as an ox, and Loki had involuntarily found himself feeling vaguely jealous of the guy, daydreaming even hours after they'd left of what it might be like to be like, well, like that. To be so strong and physically capable.

Loki would never know. Even before he'd lost the use of his legs, he'd been a sickly child, constantly plagued by illness, always incredibly undersized for his age and weak. Something his father had never forgiven him for, and which Laufey had taken as an excuse to remind Loki every day of his hatred for him.

But those aren't thoughts he likes to dwell on, and brutally then he pushes them away. He'd finally gotten away from his father, and that was all that mattered now.

And he had Michael now too. He wasn't alone, at least, though sometimes he felt very much like he was. He didn't have any friends, really. There was Darcy, who worked at the library with him, but she was also a student, and Loki knew she'd be moving on eventually.

Loki thinks he must have looked particularly pitiful to those kids today, strong and healthy as they were. Even if he wasn't stuck in this chair, people like that would never even look twice at him. It was just the way it was.

But that too Loki resolves to push from his mind, and turning his attention to Michael, he calls to the kitten, who, finished now with his dinner, comes bounding up to him, jumping up into his lap.

Loki laughs, bending down and planting a kiss atop the cat's head.

"Come on little guy, how about we go watch a movie? I've got some new titles from the library." Michael replies by curling up in his lap. "How does 'Pride and Prejudice' sound?" Loki smiles, taking hold the wheels of his chair and moving them out of the kitchenette, towards the living room. "We'll make a night of it. Just you and me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone for all your support! I'm glad to hear you guys' are enjoying the story so far! If you get a chance, let me know what you think of this chapter, and thanks so much again!


	3. Chapter 3

Three weeks now.

Three weeks. That's how long Thor's been coming here, nearly every day, just to catch a glimpse of the kid in the wheelchair.

He doesn't want to call it stalking, though really, if he's being honest with himself, that's probably what it is. It's just… he doesn't know why, but he's fascinated with the guy. And, if he's being honest again, also still feeling weighted by guilt over the incident from before, with Fandral and the rest of them. Sure, his friend hadn't said anything that horrible to the kid, but the more Thor thought about it, the more awful it really seemed. The guy was in a wheelchair, for Christ's sake, and as Thor had started to realize, as he'd been staggering his visits here to the library, sometimes coming in the morning, sometimes in the mid and late afternoon, and even a few times in the evening, the kid was always here. Every day, at least five days a week, all day, every day.

He wasn't a student then working a part time job, Thor had gleaned. This was full time for the kid. This was what he did. And something about it struck Thor as painfully sad. The kid was the same age as him, he thought. Maybe even younger. He should be in school. Heck, he was working at a university library. Everyone who worked here was a student. They were only checking out books and cataloging them as a means for a little extra cash, probably to buy text books from the on-campus book store.

Every time Thor saw the kid though, he was working, and working hard. If he wasn't sitting at the front desk, checking books out for a constant stream of students, he was rolling himself between the shelves, pushing a heavily loaded down cart as best as he could (and Thor could tell it was hard for the kid to do so), stacking and organizing hundreds of books a day. Or, sometimes, he would disappear into the back rooms for an hour at a time or more, away from the main part of the library, and Thor could only guess he was cataloging and doing inventory.

Whatever time he had in between all this, the kid would sit at the front desk and read. He always had a book open in front of him, and would have his face buried in it, seemingly completely engrossed.

And sometimes, Thor would see him having to go up to groups of students, just like himself and his friends, who were making a racket, shouting and laughing and fucking around, and tell them to be quiet.

Most of the students would comply without protest or incident, some even apologizing to the kid for disobeying the rules. Some though would respond as Fandral had, acting purposefully dismissive and resentful towards him, even saying what Thor could only guess from their twisted and angry expressions were unkind and ugly things. He never got close enough to really hear, fearful that the kid would spot him spying.

It's late afternoon now, and Thor's been here about 45 minutes, keeping his distance and watching now as the boy rolls himself again between the shelves, stacking books, looking exhausted. He's been looking so more and more lately, Thor's noticed, heavy bags under his eyes, face lined with strain. Though still he's dressed impeccably, if a little nerdy. Fandral had been right about that. The kid seems to prefer white collared button ups, done all the way up to his neck, and over that these atrociously dorky sweater vests with hideous diamond patterns, and high-water slacks with cheap looking dress shoes. Well, if Thor is being frank, all of the boy's clothes look pretty cheap. He isn't exactly what you'd call a snappy dresser.

Thor might have made fun of him a few years ago, when he'd been in high school. More than likely, even, he thinks ashamedly. But for some reason, now, he finds it kind of… endearing, he guesses the word is. Almost sweet.

He feels bad for the kid. He wishes, somehow, he could help him.

More than a few times, he's found himself nearly getting up out of his seat and going over to help the boy stack books, but each time he's lost his nerve. He hasn't forgotten how unfriendly the kid was the first and only time they'd actually, sort of, interacted. Objectively, Thor knows, it was likely only because the guy had been doing his job, and he was probably on edge from having to tell yet another group of unruly jerks to keep it down. Still, though it had only been a couple minutes of being near to him, Thor could tell just from that short time that the kid was obviously intelligent, and he found himself, grudging though he was to admit it, slightly intimidated by that fact. Thor didn't think of himself as stupid, nor any of his friends. But there was just something in this kid's eyes which told him that he wasn't in any way your average mind. The way he'd looked at all of them… it had felt to Thor like the boy was looking straight through them, to their cores, and seeing every secret any of them had ever wished to keep.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

He's disrupted from his thoughts by the sound of a loud crash, and immediately his head snaps around, seeing a group of three boys, literally grappling with each other over one of the work desks only a couple over from where he's sitting, two chairs knocked completely over.

It's no surprise then when, seconds later, he sees the kid wheeling his way over to the group, though Thor doesn't fail to notice the look of vague apprehension which crosses over his features as he draws nearer.

The group of tussling boys are all pretty big. Certainly much bigger than the kid in the wheelchair, and Thor can't blame him for being wary.

"Excuse me." The kid addresses the group when he reaches them, just as he did to Thor and his friends three weeks ago.

Only these boys don't seem to hear him, or at least pretend they don't, continuing to wrestles and shove at one another violently.

The kid is keeping his distance, Thor notices then, having stopped himself several feet back. When the group fails to address him back, Thor sees his hands tighten, knuckles turning white where they grip over the wheels of his chair. He looks nervous and frustrated in equal measure.

"Excuse me!" He says again, more loudly, and finally the group stops, turning towards him.

Immediately Thor feels his gut clench as he sees the looks on their faces.

Pure meanness. They look at the kid in the wheelchair with plain disgust, sneering down at him with vicious eyes.

The kid must see it too, as he momentarily falters, seeming to hesitate.

Only he recovers himself quickly.

"People here are trying to work." He goes on, resuming the same, strict tone. "You're going to have to keep it down or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

One of the boys laughs suddenly and loudly, letting go of the other.

"Oh, really?" He says, taking a step nearer. "You're gonna ask us to leave?"

The kid nods, keeping his eyes on the other.

"That's right." He says, voice remaining somehow calm.

The boy smirks down at him, again stepping closer.

"And how're ya plainnin' to throw us out if we don't comply, gimpy?"

Thor's eyes snap to the kid, and for a moment, he sees naked hurt flash across his face before he smoothes it back into an expressionless mask.

"I'll call security if you…"

The larger boy interrupts him, laughing uproariously.

"Oh, you'll call security, huh?" He says mockingly, and now Thor notices the other two boys crowding around, stepping closer. "I'll bet you do a lot of that, huh? Call for help 'cause you can't do shit for yourself. Ya know, being a cripple and all."

For a long moment then, the kid stares back at the other, saying nothing, and Thor can see him swallow visibly. He's scared, and yet he doesn't move, doesn't back down.

Instead he nods.

"Alright then." He says. "If you insist on going about it this way, I have little problem with it."

He takes hold the wheels of his chair then, beginning to turn.

It happens in a flash.

The three boys rush forward, the seeming leader at the head, and in an instant, he's grabbed hold the handles of the kid's wheelchair, lifting it up and tipping it forward.

Thor see's the kid's eyes go wide as saucers a moment before he goes toppling out of the chair, his hands shooting out in a belated attempt to break his fall. He hits the ground, hard, his head smacking with an audible thud against the hard carpeting, his legs lying limp and useless behind him.

Thor's heart leaps into his throat at the sight, plummeting back down as he watches the three other boys crowd around the kid, lying defenseless on the ground, trying desperately to push himself up with his arms.

His eyes are huge as they search frantically for his chair, trying to pull himself towards it when he sees it a few feet away, reaching out.

"Oh, I'm sorry, did you need this?" One of the boy's says, taking hold the chairs handles and shoving it away, the thing rolling clear across the space, only stopping when it crashes into another work table some 20 feet away.

The group erupts into laughter.

"What's the matter freak show?"

"What happened? I thought you were gonna call security on us!"

"Come on! Why don't ya get up!?"

The kid's eyes go overbright then, his face crumpling. He looks like he's about to burst into tears, and that's when Thor can't stand another second of it.

He just can't.

He jumps up from where he's seated, noticing then how everyone else in the library is staring but not doing a damned thing.

He doesn't think anymore, doesn't hesitate.

He just goes striding forward, fast and hard.

He gets there just as one of the boy's reaches down, grabbing hold the kid's shirt collar, beginning to lift him up off the floor. The kid flails, trying uselessly to break free.

Whatever the larger boy had been planning to do, Thor doesn't let him.

He grabs hold the guy's wrists, squeezing with all his strength, and the boy cries out in shocked pain, his hands immediately releasing from the kid's collar, dropping him back to the floor.

"H-hey! HEY!" The boy screams, face twisting in agony as Thor refuses to relent his grip.

The guy is big, but Thor is by far bigger, and he knows a hell of a lot stronger.

Thor lets him know it, his teeth bared as he snarls in the boy's face, squeezing harder still before finally shoving him back. The boy loses his balance, falling hard to his ass, staring up at Thor with wide, terrified eyes.

The other two boys are standing back, staring with eyes just as huge, looking half torn between attacking him and running away.

Thor glares back at them.

"Back the fuck up." He spits, making sure to make his voice loud.

It has the desired effect, the other three flinching back at the sound.

Thor smiles grimly.

"Unless of course you want an epic ass kicking." He goes on. "I'm more than willing to oblige."

"H-hey man, w-we got no fight with you." One of them says, and Thor's gaze snaps to him, furious.

"No, just with someone who can't fucking defend themselves. Is that right? I guess that makes you real men, huh?"

"L-look, we don't want no t-trouble." Another of them says, and Thor lets his smile widen to a grin.

"Well you've got trouble." He tells him. "Unless you take your asses out of here right now and don't ever come back."

The three boys need no other encouragement, the lot of them turning tail and practically running from the place.

Thor pays them no more mind after that, only watching to make certain they actually go before turning, crouching down beside the kid, still lying on the ground, holding himself up on his elbows now, his arms shaking.

"Are you okay?" Thor asks, placing a gentle hand along the kid's shoulder.

The kid nods, not looking at him.

"M-my chair." He chokes out a moment later, and Thor quickly remembers, nodding.

"Right." He says. "I'll be right back."

Standing quickly, Thor jogs over to where the kid's chair is, grabbing hold of it and wheeling it around, back to where he's still holding himself up.

As soon as it's within reach, the kid grabs hold one of the armrests, trying to drag himself up onto it, struggling visibly.

"Here, let me help you!" Thor starts, reaching down without thought and taking the kid underneath the arms, picking him up easily and turning him slowly to sit in the chair. He weighs practically nothing, Thor notices as he lowers him into his seat, trying his best to be careful. Feels as fragile as a bird under his thick hands.

Once Thor has him situated, he bends down, trying to get a look at his face. He can see a bruise already starting to form along the right side of his forehead, down along his cheekbone, no doubt where he'd smacked his head against the floor.

"You okay?" He asks again, and again the kid nods, still not looking at him.

He lifts a hand then, wiping at his eyes, and Thor realizes he's crying.

"Hey," he starts quietly. "hey, it's alright. They're gone now. It's okay."

Again, the kid nods, his face still turned away, still wiping at his eyes.

"You sure you're alright?" Thor asks again. He knows he's running the risk of being overbearing, but he wants to make sure.

"Y-yes." The kid finally answers, his voice barely more than a whisper.

A few, long seconds pass then, and at last, he lifts his face, looking up at Thor, his eyes bloodshot and wet.

For an instant, Thor sees surprised recognition light in the kid's eyes, and then he swallows thickly, his skin flushing slightly as he again looks away.

"Th-thank you." He mutters, almost too softly to hear. "That was… I…" he seems to stumble, unsure of what to say.

"No need to thank me." Thor reassures him. "Those guys were total assholes. I should have stepped in sooner."

"… You didn't have to." The kid mumbles again, his face seeming to flush more.

Thor frowns. He can see the kid is embarrassed, humiliated even, and Thor wishes he wouldn't be. What happened wasn't his fault. He did nothing wrong. Those guys were total shit, bullying someone who had no way of fighting back.

He sighs, trying to think of how best to smooth the situation over. This wasn't exactly how he'd planned on introducing himself to the kid, but…

"My name's Thor, by the way." He holds his hand out. "We've, uh, sort of met before."

The kid glances at his offered hand a moment before, with some hesitation, reaching back with his own, taking hold of it.

Thor notices how dry and smooth the kid's hand are, and also how delicate. They're as long as his own, only much more slender, with fine, tapered fingers, the bones beneath the skin almost pronounced. Looking at him now, Thor realizes, if he could stand up straight, he'd be almost as tall as Thor himself. As it is, he seems waifish and tiny, curled up in his wheelchair, his legs listing to the side, knees together, no rigidity or strength to hold them up.

"I remember." The kid says softly, glancing up at Thor a moment before his eyes slip away again. "I told you to be quiet."

Thor laughs loudly at that, cutting it off when he sees the kid flinch back at the sound.

"Sorry," he apologizes. "but yeah, that you did. Me and my friends deserved it though."

Again the kid glances up at him, seeming uncertain, and Thor tries smiling back.

"Can I ask your name?" He goes on.

Again, the kid seems momentarily to hesitate, his eyes wary.

He's withdrawn, Thor thinks, even shy. Such a sharp contrast to how he seemed before, while doing his job.

But then he opens his mouth, about to answer.

He's cut off by a loud, almost shrill shout from across the space.

"LOKI!"

Turning, Thor sees a girl jogging towards them. Black hair down past her shoulders, wearing glasses and baggy clothes, though it's still obvious she's a full figured girl.

He's seen her around here before. She works here, he remembers.

"Loki, oh my GOD!" She finally reaches them, half out of breath, holding a hand to her chest as she bends over near the kid, placing the other on his shoulder. "Are you alright!? Christ, you fell out of your chair! How did that happen?"

The kid… Loki, Thor finally realizes he has a name for him, looks almost as befuddled as Thor feels at the sudden appearance of this girl, blinking confusedly at her a long moment before he seems to come back to himself.

"Yeah, I…" he stammers a moment. "I'm alright. I'm okay. Thanks Darcy."

"Oh, God, you poor thing." The girl, Darcy, apparently, goes on, looking pointedly at the forming bruise. "Are you hurt? I was coming back from my lunch break and I saw you there on the floor, and then this guy, uh…" she turns finally, looking up at Thor, her eyebrows lifting along her forehead. "whoa…" she breathes.

Thor smiles warmly at her, nodding.

"Mmhmm," she says, turning back to Loki. "well, he's built." She tells him conspiratorially, as if Thor can't hear everything she's saying.

Loki only blinks back at her.

"There were some guys," Thor starts, haltingly, unsure if he should explain what happened or not. "they were, uh, they were harassing him and I thought, well…"

"Oh my God, are you fucking serious!?" Darcy turns to look at him, standing up straight. "Who!? Who the fuck were they? I swear, I'll kill them myself."

Thor doesn't know who they were, and he tells Darcy so.

"Sorry." He tells her. "But I told them if they ever came back here again they'd regret it."

The girl hardly looks satisfied. Looks, in fact, like she might explode in rage.

"Fucking jerkwads!" She stamps her foot for emphasis. "I can't believe."

And suddenly she's turning back towards Loki, bending down again to look him in the face.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

"I'm alright Darcy." Loki replies, sounding vaguely agitated now, flinching away when the girl takes out a tissue from her pocket and tries dabbing at his still tear stained face. "Please, don't, I'm alright."

"You always say that, even when you aren't." Darcy replies.

Loki sighs, looking away, touching the tips of his fingers to his forehead.

"I'm fine." He tries again. "I just… I just need a minute."

Darcy doesn't look convinced, frowning deeply, but nonetheless listens, backing up finally and giving Loki some space.

More than anything, Thor just thinks the poor guy is embarrassed, and he feels awful for him then, glancing around at last and noticing how many people in the library are still staring.

"Hey," he starts quietly, leaning closer to the girl. "there's a break room in back?" He asks.

Darcy looks at him, nodding vaguely.

"Uh, yeah. Just back there." She says, pointing towards the general direction.

Thor nods towards Loki then.

"We should go back there." He goes on softly, hoping the girl gets it.

Luckily, it takes only a moment before she seems to.

"Right, yeah." She says. "Just, uh, yeah. Follow me."

She steps forward, grabbing hold the handlebars of Loki's wheelchair, spinning him round gently.

"What…" Loki starts to say, but Darcy cuts him off.

"Break room kiddo." She says. "Too many looky loos out here."

Loki's eyes widen, and for the first time, he seems to realize they're being watched, his head turning and taking in the students all around them.

He absolutely shrinks in on himself then, hunching down in his chair, arms wrapping round his torso, and Thor feels his heart sink, the increasingly familiar sadness he feels when looking at the kid returning powerfully.

But with it too comes just as powerful a desire to get to know him, remembering why he'd been essentially stalking the poor guy for the last, several weeks, watching him work.

He hopes he'll get that chance.

It's with great relief then, when he follows Darcy and Loki into the back rooms, that neither of them protests his presence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and I hope you continue to enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Thor looks around the small space, cluttered with messily stacked books, reams of paper and notebooks, a paper shredder and filing cabinets. Atop the filing cabinets, Thor's noticed, are numerous and varied action figures. G.I. Joe's and comic book heroes and teenage mutant ninja turtles. In among those are those little animal figurines you find at zoo gift shops. Tigers and lions and elephants, etc… He finds himself wondering if they belong to Loki or the girl. It makes him smile, for some reason, to imagine Loki collecting that sort of thing. It's cute. But also a little sad.

There's a small table in the rooms center, two plastic chairs to go with it, boxes of old Chinese takeout cluttering up its surface. Thor feels slightly wrong footed and unsure being here.

The break room, as the girl, Darcy, calls it, isn't very big. No more than twenty by fifteen feet, Thor doesn't think, with a small bathroom attached near the back of it.

The bathroom, currently occupied by Loki. He'd excused himself hastily from their company the moment they'd managed to escape back here, leaving Thor alone with Darcy, uncertain exactly what it was he was really doing here.

He'd wanted to make sure Loki was really alright, he supposes, but he'd run off so quickly that Thor hadn't really gotten a chance to ask again, or watch and see if he was more hurt than he'd been letting on.

And he's been in there the past ten minutes already. Thor can feel himself growing antsy, worry churning in his gut. He finds his mind wandering, thinking about things. Ridiculously, the image pops into his mind of Loki struggling to even use the toilet, and wondering how he manages to do so, without being able to move his legs…

Wiping his palms on his pants, he opens his mouth, getting ready to ask Darcy, standing at one of the filing cabinets, organizing folders, if Loki is alright in there by himself, but the girl starts talking before he gets a chance.

"I told him he doesn't have to deal with the trouble makers." She mutters, almost to herself. "I told him I'd take care of it." She shakes her head, not looking at Thor as she continues in her task. "But he keeps insisting he can do it, and then shit like this happens."

She sounds frustrated, and pained, and Thor stares back at her, unsure of what to say.

"Thanks, by the way." She goes on, finally looking at him as she shuts the drawer and starts towards him, taking a seat in the remaining empty chair. "For helping him back there, I mean." She clarifies.

"It was no trouble." Thor tells her, shrugging. "I should've stepped in sooner."

"So you're him, huh?" Darcy replies, smiling broadly at him.

"Excuse me?" Thor asks, confused, not understanding.

"The guy who's been stalking Loki." She says flatly, and Thor feels his face instantly heat up, his mouth going dry.

"I… I don't…" he stammers, not knowing how to reply.

Darcy just laughs, shaking her head.

"Calm down there Goliath. I'm just kidding."

Thor blinks, growing only more confused.

"It's just cute, the way you thought you were being all discreet. But let me just warn you now. Loki may be in a wheelchair, but that doesn't mean he's stupid."

"I don't think he's…" Thor sputters.

But Darcy cuts him off.

"Actually he's about the smartest person I've ever met, and I know some smart fuckers." She goes on bluntly. "He's had you pegged for weeks man."

Again she laughs at the no doubt horrified look across Thor's face.

"Listen," she continues. "Loki's scared. He thinks 'cause he yelled at you and your friends a few weeks ago that you're coming around because you want to fuck with him somehow. So I've gotta ask you, point blank. Is that what you're doing?"

"What!? N-no! No, of course not!" Thor again sputters. "I just… I thought…"

Darcy is staring at him intently, her glare calculating even.

"Look, I don't mean to be so pushy or whatever." She goes on after a moment, when Thor finally gives up trying to explain himself. "But I don't wanna see him get hurt either. Alright? He's had a hard enough time as it is."

"I don't want to hurt him." Thor tells her. "I swear. I just… I… one of my friends was kind of mean to him and I… I felt bad for him, so I thought…"

He trails off when he sees Darcy again shaking her head.

"Alright, first, don't say that to him." She says. "Don't tell him you feel bad for him, or sorry or whatever. He fucking hates that. Second, that's cool and all that you felt bad and wanted to make it up to him, but again I'm gonna be straight with you. You're coming around here and watching him all the time is stressing the poor guy out, even more than he usually is. And listen, Loki's… he's…"

She seems to struggle a moment, hesitating.

"Aw hell, I'm just gonna say it. Loki's fucked up. Alright? And I don't mean that to sound harsh or anything. All I mean is he comes from a fucked up background and he's got issues because of it. Serious issues. He's had a really hard life, and it's still hard for him, ya know? So just… if you really want to be his friend, that's great. He needs friends. He doesn't have any except me, and seriously, we hardly ever see each other outside of work, with him working full time here and me going to school. But if you're just nursing some fucked up morbid curiosity with him, then you need to stop right now and leave him alone. Kay?"

For a moment, Thor can only blink back at her, unsure of what to say, of how to react.

Everything she was saying was…

He didn't even know what to make of it.

It was all completely unfamiliar to him. Foreign.

He knew he'd had a privileged sort of life up until now. Knew he was lucky. But what Darcy was describing, without knowing any real details even… it was beyond his understanding.

Swallowing thickly, he glances towards the still closed bathroom door a moment before looking back to her.

"I don't want to hurt him." Thor again repeats, and means it sincerely. "I swear. I… I'll admit I've never… uh, never had a friend like… like that, like him, I mean. Uh… I'm screwing this up, aren't I?" He asks, seeing the look on her face.

"Mmm, yup, pretty much." She answers, chuckling lightly.

Thor feels like a complete asshole.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is I'd… I'd like to try being his friend."

"Great!" Darcy exclaims, clapping her hands together. "So you can tell him so when he comes out!"

Thor blinks, feeling abruptly steamrolled somehow.

"Uh…" he starts stupidly. "O-okay."

"Cool!" She goes on happily. "But remember, do anything to hurt him and I'll tear your balls off and shove 'em down your throat, kay?"

Thor gets the distinct impression this girl would actually try and make good on her threat, and so he can only nod vaguely, trying not to feel put off.

"So," he starts after an awkward stretch of silence. "what, um, what exactly happened to him. I mean, you said his life's been hard…"

He trails off, seeing Darcy's expression shutter, the smile dropping from her lips.

"What, you mean besides being in a fucking wheelchair?" She asks, sounding angry.

"I didn't mean…" Thor starts, suddenly embarrassed.

Darcy sighs, again interrupting him.

"Look Thor, you're a really nice guy. I can see that. And I think your intentions are good. But you've gotta stop being so dense. If you wanna know about Loki's life, you're gonna have to grow some balls and ask him yourself. Because I'm not gonna tell you. All I'll say is that he's been through some heavy shit, and that he's only told me probably a fraction of all that is. And even getting that out of him was like pulling teeth. He's super private, and like I said, he hates it when people pity him. But you can tell, you know. Once you get to know him. He's seen a lot of pain. He doesn't trust so easily."

Now Thor really feels like an asshole, and slightly ashamed as he looks down at his own lap.

"Right." He says. "Right. I'm sorry."

Darcy laughs.

"What are ya apologizing to me for? I'm just filling you in a little. Listen though, all that aside, and this is what people don't get, either because they look at Loki and all they can see is his handicap, or they think he's a jerk because he has a tendency to act cold, but that's only because he's fucking scared of people, and don't tell him I told you that… underneath that stuff, you're never gonna meet a sweeter guy. Sure, he's got baggage, but he's fucking beautiful. Seriously, he's an amazing person, and so damn gentle…"

For a moment, Darcy's eyes grow over-bright, her voice wavering, and Thor realizes with a shock that she's on the verge of tears.

She wipes at her eyes then, swallowing visibly.

"Just, be patient with him, if you're really serious about wanting to be his friend. He… he deserves that. He deserves someone to be good to him for once."

Thor nods, overwhelmed.

"I'll try." He says. "I promise I'll try."

"Good." Darcy replies. "That's good."

A few, long moments pass then, another, awkward silence falling.

Thor's eyes rove across the space, once more landing on the figures covering the top of one of the filing cabinets, and he can't help his curiosity then.

"Are those…" he starts, pointing towards the toys.

Darcy turns in her seat to see what it is he's talking about.

When she turns back to him, she's got a massive grin across her face.

"Oh, yeah, those. All Loki's."

"Really?" Thor asks, unable to help his own grin.

"Uh huh." Darcy nods. "The kid loves toys. He, like, literally brings a new one in every week."

"That's…" Thor starts, laughing.

"Stupendously dorky?" Darcy supplies. "Yeah. That's our boy. Total nerd. But I mean that in only the nicest way, honest." She laughs. "He's so into comic books and all that stuff. Won't shut up about Superman and Batman and all those guys. And it's hilarious, because he'll turn around and start quoting Shakespeare to you, or talking quantum mechanics or something. I'm telling you, he's like, stupid smart, but also in some ways so much like a little kid. Like, he's weirdly sheltered. I don't think he's actually had much experience out there in the world or… or…"

She cuts off suddenly, eyes going wide.

"Shit," she mutters. "there I go again. I tell you you've got to find out about him yourself, and then I start blabbing all about him to you." She shakes her head. "It's just, well, no one's ever really… shown any interest in him the… the way you have."

She trails off, looking abruptly heartbroken.

And Thor feels his own heart grow heavy.

"From everything you say," he tells her seriously. "he sounds like he's every bit worth getting to know."

Darcy's eyes are wet again, and she smiles weakly back.

"He is." She says. "I promise you he is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, massive thank you to all my readers and reviewers! If you get a chance, please let me know your thoughts!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning this chapter guys for mentions of child abuse, physical and psychological.

Loki sits there, his face held in his hands, trying desperately to control his rapid, shallow breathing, failing miserably.

Oh God, even now he feels like he might die from the utter humiliation. Wishes he could just disappear into his chair forever and ever, never to be heard from again.

He is such a fool. Such a complete idiot! He can't believe… can't believe that happened. That he let something like that happen.

What the hell was he even thinking? That's what… that's what he gets for thinking he could actually handle things, could actually… actually be a man and, and do a job and not let his stupid, fucking disability get in the way. Not let the fact he's such a weak, useless, moronic loser get in the way…

Hot tears sting at his eyes, and raggedly he sucks in a breath, trying to muffle the sob which slips past his lips behind his palms, pressed tight over his mouth.

He'll never be anything, he thinks. Never be anything but this pathetic fucking freak who everyone hates.

Who…who his father and… and even his brothers knew was so worthless that they… they…

His fingers bury into his hair, tearing painfully at it as he tries brutally to shove the memories away, another, choked sob catching in his throat.

He can't think about this right now. He'll have another anxiety attack if he does, and he can't. Not here. Not at work. They'll fire him for sure if he loses it like that, and then he'll be massively screwed.

"Come on Loki," he whispers to himself, sucking in another, painful breath, wiping viciously at his eyes. "Come on, calm down."

It takes several, long minutes more, and he knows Darcy and that guy… Thor?... must be wondering where the hell he is.

Oh God, the guy, Thor, he must… must think he's such a loser. Must think he's so pathetic.

The way he'd just… just chased those other students off like it was nothing, while Loki had been flailing along the floor, helpless and pitiful, and then he'd started crying.

He still wasn't certain of the other man's intentions. Didn't know what he wanted. If he was following him in some hope to get him back for scolding him and his friends, or… but that didn't really seem to make sense now. Not with the way he'd intervened and helped.

Shaking his head, again wiping at his eyes, Loki looks at himself in the mirror, barely able to see over the sink and to his reflection.

It reminds him of when he was a boy, when he could still stand, and the top of his head barely reached level with the sinks in their apartment, and he would have to stand on the very tips of his toes and try and pull himself up along the sinks lip just to catch a glimpse of his eyes.

Eyes now which he sees are bloodshot, the skin around them puffy and ugly, his face gaunt and sickly looking.

That too reminds him of when he was a boy.

The memories so powerful, they seem to weigh him down to drowning.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Loki hisses softly as he presses his fingers to the bruised and swollen skin round his left eye, already nearly closed and trailing down over his cheekbone. There's another bruise blossoming, just as ugly, along the right side of his jaw, and he can't move it even a little without pain flaring up across his whole face.

His eyes are red from crying so much, and he can hear his father's voice, telling him to suck it up, stop being such a sissy. Can hear his brother's standing back, watching and laughing…

Wrapping his arms about himself, he tries to stop shaking, but can't seem to. He doesn't know if it's the pain or the cold of the bathroom, seeping through the overlarge t-shirt which serves as his only article of clothing now. The hem of it reaches just past his knees, and he stares at his bare feet as he backs away from the sink.

They're nearly black with dirt, dried blood caking under the nails from where his toes had been scratched up.

Every movement is done stiffly for how much agony it sends through him, his body, he knows, as black and blue as his face, his knees scuffed and bruised from where he'd fallen hard against them.

Father had been really angry today.

His back hitting the wall behind him, Loki lets himself sink down, flinching slightly as the cold tile touches his bare bottom. Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wraps his arms about them, pressing his face to their tops.

He doesn't know for how long he sits there like that, only that he's drifting, trying to cast his mind away, to someplace else, someplace better.

Like one of those worlds he's read about in his brother's school books. The one's he'd secreted away and read, even though he knew he wasn't allowed.

His imaginings take him deep into thought. So much so, that he's unaware of the presence standing within the bathroom's threshold.

He startles badly when they snap at him, the back of his head colliding painfully against the wall.

He scurries then to his feet, nearly falling again before he manages to right himself, staring apprehensively up at Bylistr, glaring down at him with unhidden disdain.

His second older brother is only fourteen, but already he's a mountain, nearly big as Father. His hatred for Loki is hardly a secret.

"Get your ass off the floor and come to the kitchen." He says coldly. "We're eatin'."

Loki nods his head almost frantically, a blossom of hope lighting in his chest at the prospect of food, beginning to step forward.

"Fuckin' get cleaned up first!" Bylistr snaps, freezing Loki in his movement. "You're all snotted up and gross!"

Loki blinks, before again nodding, not daring to say anything back.

His brother leaves him alone then, and Loki makes his way over to the sink. He's barely at a height with it, having to stand on the very tips of his toes to see over its lip, and so it's a struggle to reach for the knobs on the faucet and turn the water on. Harder still to cup his hands under the tap and splash the water over his face.

He does so several times, even though the water stings across the cuts and abrasions, until, pulling himself with difficulty up by the sink's edges, he sees his face is mostly clean. There's nothing he can do about the bruising.

Making his way to the small kitchen of their apartment, he keeps his face down, tugging nervously at the hem of his shirt as he makes his way to his seat. No one says anything as he struggles to pull himself up onto the chair, but he can feel the eyes of his father and two brothers on him.

He continues to keep his eyes fixed down as he finally situates himself in the chair, his legs only reaching halfway to the floor. There's a plate of food in front of him, soggy looking leftovers from a couple nights ago which fill only about half the dish. Risking a brief glance up, and Loki sees his father and brothers each have full plates of fresh food, but he knows better than to say anything. Knows he's lucky to be eating at all.

There are no spoons or forks for him, and he continues to sit there, shoulders hunched, awaiting instructions.

"Well," he hears his father start at last, and It's an effort for Loki to keep from flinching at the sound. "are you gonna eat it, or do you want me to toss it out?"

Loki shakes his head frantically, near panic blooming in his chest at the thought of going another night without food. He hadn't eaten in over three days now and his stomach hurt terribly. Punishment for having been caught staring out the window. People weren't supposed to know he was here, father said. Loki hadn't thought there was any harm in looking out the window though, 'cause it opened up into an alleyway, and the only people that ever went in there were bums.

But he'd been wrong, and father hadn't let him eat since then, and had been sure to give him a proper beating each day too, so Loki would understand how wrong he'd been and wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He tries to keep his hands from shaking as he reaches up, scooping some of the food onto his fingers, mashed potatoes and dully colored, flimsy string beans. Carefully he brings the food to his mouth, trying to be neat, knowing it's useless anyway.

He hears his brothers snickering and tries to ignore it, before suddenly the entire table trembles with the impact of his father's fist, slamming down hard on it.

Terror immediately rips through Loki as he drops the potatoes and beans, his head snapping up and eyes wide as they fall on his father, seeing the massive man staring back at him with hateful disgust.

"Did I say you could start eating, you little shit?" He asks lowly.

Loki nearly gasps as a sob lodges painfully in his throat and he shakes his head no, realizing his mistake.

Stupid, stupid, stupid he thinks despairingly, hands shaking harder as he pulls them back into his lap.

Helblindi and Bylistr are smirking at him, and Loki lowers his eyes to the tabletop again, his heart pounding inside his chest, anxiety near choking him as he struggles not to start crying. Father will beat him again if he does.

"What's the rule boy?" Father presses then.

Loki's mouth is dry and when he first tries to answer, nothing but a near soundless rasp escapes his lips. Swallowing thickly, he tries again, keeping his eyes down.

"N-nn-never do a-anything without y-your p-permission." He stammers.

Again he hears his brothers laugh.

"Shut it you two." Father tells them, and they quickly fall silent. "Loki here clearly needs a reminder in proper etiquette. Isn't that right boy?" He goes on after a moment.

Loki sits motionless, mind racing. He doesn't know how to respond, and the realization makes him feel dizzy with fear.

If he says yes, Father will hit him for sure. He wants to beg Father not to, to give him another chance to do it right, but he knows if he does that, it'll only make his father angrier, and then he'll hit him harder.

He can't help it then, as his eyes start to sting painfully with tears, his desperate attempts to hold them back only clouding his vision faster, and the sob which he'd been choking down before slips free, past his lips.

Father's going to kill him for sure, he's going to beat him bloody again. The very thought of it is nearly enough to paralyze Loki, his vision starting to darken round the edges as his head spins.

And then the table rattles again as once more his father slams a hand against it, this time followed by his uproarious laughter.

"Calm the fuck down Loki!" He booms, the sound of his brothers laughter echoing behind it. "I'm only pullin' your chain!"

The relief is too much, and Loki begins then to sob in earnest, trying to stifle the sounds of it, pressing his hands over his mouth.

"Now you stop that boy." Father warns, the mirth seeping from his tone. "Or I'll beat your ass for real. You hear me?"

Loki nods frantically, trying to choke down his tears, wiping viciously at his eyes.

"How old are you now anyway?" Father presses, sounding good and angry again.

"He just turned six Pa." Helblindi answers through his laughter. "Remember?"

"Too old for that sissy shit, that's for sure." Father replies, shaking his head. "How long're you going to be a faggot Loki?"

"Loki?

… Loki?

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Loki?"

Loki is snapped from his memories by the sound of Darcy's voice, drifting through the closed bathroom door.

"Loki, are you alright in there?" She calls again.

Loki wipes at his eyes, fumbling with the faucet on the sink, waiting for the hiss of the spray before calling back, hoping it covers his unsteady voice.

"Y-yeah!" He answers. "Just… just finishing up. I'll be out in a minute!"

"… Okay." Darcy doesn't sound convinced, but that hardly surprises Loki. She's a smart girl. He also knows she won't press him into talking about anything, even if she knows he's wallowing again, and for that, he's eternally grateful.

Splashing cold water over his face several times, he stares back at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes look sunken and dull, heavy, dark circles beneath them, skin sickly pale. He looks like shit.

Nothing new there.

He just hopes Darcy and the guy, Thor, can't tell he'd been crying. God, he's embarrassed himself enough already today.

Shutting the tap off, he runs his hands over his face once more and back through his hair, pushing it off his forehead, before sucking in a deep breath, taking hold the wheels of his chair and turning for the door.

With any luck, he thinks, Thor will have gone away already. He hopes. He has no desire to continue feeling like the nothing that he is, having to sit beside such a perfect fucking specimen.


	6. Chapter 6

Thor straightens in his seat, an almost nervousness working through him as he hears the bathroom door finally latch open, and a moment later Loki appears, rolling himself out into the main room. His sharp eyes flit briefly over Darcy and then Thor before quickly skirting away, and he continues to move, albeit with seeming reluctance, towards the table in the center of the room.

He keeps his face lowered as he mutters out a near soundless apology for taking so long.

"Don't worry about it kiddo." Darcy grins at him. "You sure you're alright?" She asks again, keeping her tone light.

Finally, Loki lifts his face, smiling back at the girl, though the expression seems strained, and Thor can see immediately, from his puffy and reddened eyes that he's been crying. He feels his heart sink at the sight, his mouth falling open to offer some words of comfort or… something. Only then he remembers what Darcy had said about Loki not liking pity, and the words die on his tongue.

"I'm fine," Loki says, keeping his eyes on Darcy. "Thanks."

Darcy shrugs, dropping it quickly.

"Welp," she says. "I better get back out on the floor. Someone's gotta man the stations."

For an instant, a very real look of panic passes over Loki's features, his eyes going slightly wide.

"I-I can go." He stammers out. "I just…"

But Darcy's already shaking her head.

"Nope. No can do Loks. You're taking it easy the rest of the day. No more work for you."

"But…" Loki again starts to protest, and again, Darcy cuts him off.

"Sorry!" She calls back over her shoulder, already moving away, towards the door. "Catch ya later lovebirds!"

And then she's gone.

Thor can't help but chuckle at the girl's almost over the top enthusiasm and crass manner. She sure isn't shy. But he finds himself already liking her very much.

He's still smiling as he glances over at Loki, but the expression quickly drops from his lips as he sees the other boy, hunched in on himself, shoulders nearly up to his ears, his face turned down. His long, thin hands are fidgeting in his lap, fingers burying in the material of his pants. He looks absolutely mortified, and it doesn't take Thor long to realize why.

"Um," he starts, trying to ease the tension, still feeling the weight of awkwardness between them. "she seems nice."

He rolls his eyes at himself a moment later as he realizes how lame that sounded.

Loki doesn't look up, still sunk down in his chair as he gives a vague nod.

Thor feels his own nerves rising again as he tries to think frantically of something else to say.

"She's a little hyper though." He tries, clenching his fists at, again, how stupid he sounds.

Brilliant conversation Thor, he thinks to himself.

But then he hears a light chortle, and glancing up, he sees a brief turning up of Loki's lips before it again falls away.

"Y-yeah," he says quietly. "Darcy's the best, but she can be a little too much s-sometimes."

Loki's cheeks redden slightly in a blush, keeping his eyes away, and again Thor can't help but think what a contrast it is to how the boy came across before, when he'd told them all so matter of factly that they'd better keep it down or they'd be kicked out.

Thor thinks of a term he'd read about recently in one of his textbooks. A "hothouse flower". Someone who can only operate well under certain, specific conditions. He wonders if that's what's up with Loki.

Still, he finds himself suddenly encouraged by the other boy's willingness to engage, and can't help pushing a little further, hoping to open Loki up a bit more.

"I like your accent." He tries hesitantly. "Where are you from?"

For a moment, Loki looks up at him, clearly startled by the question, and Thor worries that he's overstepped his bounds. Only he really is curious. The other boy's accent is thick, though Thor finds himself unable to really place it. It's obviously European, but from where he can't say.

He sees Loki swallow, before his eyes again slide away from him, and in a voice barely more than a whisper, he answers…

"… I was born in Iceland. In a place called Vogar. It's a… a very small town."

Thor, if possible, finds his curiosity even more piqued, raising his eyebrows.

"Iceland? Really?" He asks. "That must have been something!"

Loki shrugs, his gaze still fixed down, saying nothing.

"So…" Thor goes on, not wanting to lose the other boy's attention yet. "how'd you end up here then?"

Loki turns his face aside, staring at seemingly nothing, and again Thor fears he's made a mistake as the boy hugs his arms around himself, saying nothing for long seconds.

"We moved to London when I was f-five." He finally answers, voice even softer than before. "I came to the United States j-just a year ago."

"Wow," Thor breathes, sincerely intrigued. "that's amazing. You live here by yourself now?"

Loki nods, staying quiet.

Thor opens his mouth to ask more questions, but again he remembers what Darcy had told him, about Loki having gone through some hard times, and he finds himself pulling back, taking notice of how uncomfortable the other boy seems.

"W-well," he says instead, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "you probably guessed already I'm from around here. Though I've traveled kind of a lot. My dad's a developer. He gets contracted by all sorts of companies and has to travel all over the world for it, so he ends up dragging me and my mom and brother along all the time. My brother's actually probably about your age. He's seventeen. Do you have any brother's or sisters?"

In an instant, Loki's posture turns, impossibly, more defensive, whatever openness Thor had been hopeful of seeing shutting right down. He crosses his arms tighter around himself, turning fully away.

"I… I think maybe you should go." He says abruptly, and Thor feels his brows crease as confusion takes hold of him.

"… I'm sorry?" He asks, not understanding in the least.

"You… you should go." Loki repeats, taking hold the wheels of his chair now and turning it from the table, until his back is fully to Thor. "I have a lot of work to do around here."

Now that, Thor thinks, is a blatant lie. He doesn't understand why Loki's being so rude all of a sudden. He had just been trying to be nice!

"No you don't." He says before he can think, an annoyed edge to his voice.

He knows immediately it's a mistake.

Loki's entire frame goes rigid as a wooden board, his shoulders tensing in an almost painful looking line, his hands gripping tight over the wheels of his chair, until his knuckles turn bloodless.

Thor steps forward, his mouth falling open stupidly, mind trying frantically to find the words to apologize, to tell Loki he didn't mean that to sound the way it did.

But no words come, and he watches as Loki's head bows low, his arms shaking as he grips the wheels of his chair harder still.

"… Th-thank you for your help earlier." He says softly, still not turning around. "I'm certain you can find your own way out."

It's as clear a dismissal as Thor thinks he's ever heard, and he knows better than to argue. Knows nothing he says will now make a difference, maybe only make it worse.

Still, he mutters an apology, backing away.

Loki doesn't move from his position, and it's only with regret heavy in his chest that Thor at last leaves.


	7. Chapter 7

Loki is very near to panicking as he wheels himself quickly as possible down the sidewalk, towards the bus stop.

It's late, he knows. Past 10:30. He's already missed his bus, and there's only one more for the rest of the night, at 10:45.

God, he's never going to make it. He doesn't know what he'll do if he misses it.

Darcy hadn't been able to make it into work today. She was sick, and there'd been no substitute to relieve her, which meant that all of her duties had fallen to Loki. A circumstance which he'd discovered despairingly meant it took twice, sometimes three times as long for him to complete his tasks, including closing the library up for the night.

His breath is loud and labored in his ears, his heart beating uncomfortably hard against his ribcage as he struggles to keep his book bag slipping from his lap while wheeling himself more quickly than he's at all used to, his brow thick with sweat, sliding down his face. He can't keep himself from thinking how really pathetic he is.

He feels foolish, and ashamed at how terrified he actually is at the prospect of missing the bus. He's practically an adult, but he feels like a child, lost and without direction, unknowing of what to do.

It's his only ride home. He's got no other way of getting there tonight.

He's getting close now though, and for a moment, he allows himself a swell of hope as he steers himself round the corner, onto the street with the stop.

Only the hope dies quickly away as he spots the bus at the end of the street, coming towards the stop. There's no one there, and that means the bus won't stop or even slow down.

Panic surges again from the pit of Loki's stomach, and frantically, he begins wheeling himself towards the stop as quickly as he's able, his efforts seeming pitifully slow and clumsy to him.

Halfway there, and his bag falls from his lap, onto the concrete, its contents spilling out.

Loki chokes out in angry frustration, stuttering to a stop, glancing down at his books blocking his path before snapping his eyes back up to the bus. He isn't going to make it. He wasn't going to anyway.

In a last effort, he waves his arms, flailing them desperately through the air, hoping the driver sees him.

But he doesn't.

The bus just keeps going.

Past the stop… past him.

For a moment, Loki can only sit there in shock, turning his head and watching the bus's lights as they grow faint into the distance, the sound of it's exhaust fading in his ears, until it disappears to him completely, leaving him alone and in silence, save the chirping of crickets from around, the street near full dark but for the few, weak street lamps barely illuminating the ground beneath them.

For long seconds he feels only a numb detachment, like he can't believe what's just happened, can't accept what it means.

But that feeling soon disperses, giving way to the suffocating weight of realization.

He's got no way home. He… He doesn't have a cell phone, he can't afford one. And even if he did, he doesn't know anyone he could call. He… he doesn't even know Darcy's number. He doesn't have any friends. He…

Oh God, he's stuck here, he realizes. He's stuck out on the street, in the middle of LA, and it's almost eleven o'clock at night. Nearly midnight. And he's in a wheelchair. He's a useless, scrawny cripple in a wheelchair stuck out on the street at night, with no way to get home.

If he'd thought he'd felt panic before, it's nothing compared to what comes surging up into his throat now, nearly choking him with the intensity of it.

Panic gives way to fear, and in an instant, humiliated by it though he is, he feels his eyes begin to burn, filling thick with tears, blurring the street before him, his breathes coming quick and loud, almost wheezing as they rattle in his chest.

He begins to cry in earnest, even as he chastises himself inwardly for his own stupidity and childishness.

It's just that he doesn't know what to do. He has no idea. This has never happened to him before, and he's scared. He's really, really scared.

Oh God, he thinks, what if someone comes along and sees him, some robber or just one of those violent persons you hear about on the news all the time? They'd see him for an easy mark for sure, and when they realized he didn't have any money for them to steal they'd… they'd hurt him, they'd beat him up or… or worse. They'd…

He's got to get out of sight, he thinks. He's got to find some place where he can hide and think.

Glancing down, he sees his scattered books, and another wave of frustration, now laced with concern washes through him. He wipes the back of his hand against his eyes, trying to clear his vision, but the tears won't seem to stop coming, a sob lodging in his throat which he tries in vain to choke down.

He's so damned pathetic.

Grasping one of the armrests of his chair, he bends forward, reaching down and beginning to gather up his belongings, first taking hold the bag and putting it back on his lap, then going for the books, trying awkwardly to collect them.

He has to keep pausing and wiping at his eyes again for the way the tears blind him.

He's so stupid, and his fear begins to rise somehow more as he realizes that, beyond the route he takes from and to the bus stop every day, he really doesn't know this area at all. Doesn't know where he could go.

Maybe back to campus. Maybe there's someone there who can help him. A professor or a student who's staying late. Someone who can call him a cab or…

He freezes while reaching for another book, his heart stuttering in his chest as the sound of a car driving past suddenly fills his ears, and then the glare of headlights washes over him, forcing his eyes to squeeze tightly shut. Terror momentarily overwhelms him as he hears the car stop, idling nearby, and then the noise of a door coming open.

He loses it, sitting back up and grabbing hold his chair's wheels, beginning frantically and clumsily to turn himself round, his book bag once more slipping from him and to the ground.

He's barely managed to turn before he hears a voice call out.

"Loki?" It says, and again, he freezes.

He recognizes the voice, he realizes, a deep baritone.

For an instant, both confusion and hope swirl inside him, and he turns to look over his shoulder, seeing a hulking frame moving towards him, silhouetted against the stopped cars headlights.

And then the figures features come into view, and it's Thor. Thor, who Loki hasn't seen in a week. Who he hasn't seen since he told him to go away, after he'd helped him in the library with those students.

Almost crushing relief crashes down over him, and for a moment, Loki feels dizzy with it, swaying in his seat.

Thor must notice, because in an instant he's by Loki's side, taking hold of his shoulders and steadying him where he sits.

Loki turns his face away, deeply embarrassed as he remembers how he's been crying, trying to wipe the evidence of it away, but Thor must notice that too, as he crouches down in front of him, and Loki sees the lines of concern across his handsome face.

"Are you alright?" Thor asks, and he sounds completely sincere. "You're crying."

Loki opens his mouth to answer, feeling his cheeks burning with humiliation, and it only grows worse then as instead of words, another, strangled sob slips past his lips, this time of relief. He looks away again, mortified, once more wiping at his eyes.

"Loki," Thor starts again, sounding worried. "what's wrong? What's happened?"

The older boy looks past him then, seeing his spilled books on the ground, before again bringing his gaze to Loki.

"Are you hurt?" He asks, voice nearing an edge of panic. "Did someone attack you?"

Loki finds himself almost confused by the obvious care in Thor's questions, his head spinning with trying to take it in, mixing with his embarrassment over his own panicked reaction.

He shakes his head slowly, still keeping his eyes away. He doesn't know how to explain to Thor what happened. Not without making himself look at pathetic as he is.

But Thor's obviously smarter than initial impressions would lead most to believe, as he looks again to Loki's spilt bag and books, and then farther down, to the bus stop, and seems in an instant to put it all together.

"You missed your ride." He says almost absently.

Loki doesn't bother answering, wiping again at his face.

God, why can't he stop crying?

"It's alright." Thor says. "Hey, it's alright." And he reaches up, placing a hand on Loki's shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze.

And then he's standing, moving around, and Loki hears him gathering up his belongings.

Loki can't understand why this guy keeps being so nice to him. Why he's interested in talking to him at all. Right now though, he can't bring himself to question it, can't argue against it when he'd just moments before been so terrified and alone.

"Hey, listen." Thor starts, coming back to face him. Loki dares to glance up at the older boy, seeing him holding his book bag. Thor smiles vaguely and Loki again looks away. "Don't worry about it. Are you trying to get home?"

Loki swallows thickly, nodding.

"Y-yeah." He answers, his voice brittle sounding. He's finally stopped crying, but now his face feels dirty and his eyes are still wet.

"Well it's easy." Thor goes on like there's nothing wrong in the world. "I'll just give you a lift. Okay? I've got my car."

Loki feels a surge of relief again, looking up once more to the other boy.

"I live pretty far away." He says, uncertain, worried even as the words escape him that Thor is going to retract the offer.

But Thor only smiles again, shaking his head.

"That's no problem. It's Friday, so no school tomorrow. I was just driving home myself. I was over at a friend's, just hanging. A little late I guess, but..." he shrugs, smile spreading to a grin.

Loki gazes at him with a furrowed brow, finding himself only more confused.

He still wonders if Thor doesn't have some ulterior motive. If he isn't playing with him in some way. Though, at the moment, he thinks that's unfair. The older boy is just so high spirited, and, if Loki is being honest with himself, he's been feeling guilty all week for having chased Thor off the way he did. He'd overreacted, as he so often does. Something Darcy hadn't been shy about letting him know. Thor had just been trying to be friendly, and in truth, he'd probably been just as unsure about it all as Loki had. Something Loki hadn't wanted to admit to himself, because of course it was typical of him. Someone finally shows interest in wanting to be his friend, and he freaks out and chases them off.

He still isn't sure about it all. Isn't sure about Thor. But right now, he's desperate, he needs to get home, and the other boy is his only real chance for it to happen. He doesn't know what he would have done if Thor hadn't come along when he did.

"If… if it isn't too much of a burden." He says, hating how frightened he still sounds.

"Of course not." Thor says cheerily. "My car's just over here. Do you want me to push you or…?"

"I'm alright." Loki answers, and he tries to smile back at Thor now, though he can feel the effort is weak. Still, it seems to satisfy the older boy, his grin widening somehow further.

"Great!" He says. "Just follow me."

/

It's a little awkward getting Loki into the passenger side seat. He's insistent at first that he can handle it, but after he nearly falls face first to the hard concrete of the sidewalk, just barely avoiding it by Thor catching him round the waist, Thor insists back that he simply be allowed to pick him up and place him in the car.

Loki's clearly embarrassed by it, and Thor understands, but he doesn't want the other boy getting hurt. He tells him so, and Loki relents finally.

It shocks Thor still how little Loki weighs when he picks him up. The kid is all skin and bones it seems.

He's careful about handling Loki's legs, folding them neatly inside the car's cabin, asking Loki if there's enough room for him. Loki tells him there is, but Thor still worries. The inside of his car isn't exactly spacious, it being a Mustang and all. He worries more about fitting Loki's chair inside his tiny ass trunk, and that's after struggling for a few minutes trying to get the thing folded up.

Loki's voice sounds exasperated as he tries to instruct him from the car.

Eventually Thor gets it though, and though it's a tight fit, he manages to maneuver it into the trunk nonetheless.

He still can't quite believe his luck in having come across the other boy the way he did. He really had just been driving home from Sif's, sort of meandering through different streets he didn't usually take, when he'd spotted Loki, bent over in his wheelchair, seemingly trying to pick something up off the ground. It had taken Thor a few, long seconds to realize it was him, and he's immediately stopped the car.

After what had happened the week before, with him screwing up so royally and Loki telling him to go, Thor had all but given up hope of ever actually befriending the kid. He'd been beating himself up for days about it, regretting his own blundering foolishness. Mostly, it had been sadness over having screwed it up for Loki. After everything Darcy had told him, and after talking even just the small amount he had to the other boy, Thor had wanted badly to offer Loki some sort of companionship. It seemed to him that Loki was suffering, and something about it pained Thor immensely.

Now though, after Loki had told him the address of where he lived, giving the occasional instruction of how to get there, the silence between them stretches somewhat awkwardly, and once more Thor finds himself scrambling for something to say.

He can see as they move along and the surrounding area gets worse and worse that Loki clearly doesn't live in a very good neighborhood, but Thor isn't dumb enough to comment on that.

Still, it's a starting point, and so he chooses his words carefully now.

"So, you live by yourself, or you have roommates?" He asks, glancing from his periphery to gauge Loki's reaction.

He sees the other boy stiffen somewhat from where he sits staring out the passenger side window, turning to glance back at Thor.

A long moment stretches where he says nothing, and Thor feels slight panic, thinking he's messed up again.

"… By myself." Loki finally answers, voice almost too soft to hear. "Well, I have a cat. His name's Michael."

"A cat, huh?" Thor smiles at him, relieved. "I'm more of a dog person myself."

Loki looks away, down at his folded hands in his lap, shrugging.

"I like all animals." He says quietly.

Another silence stretches, and Thor bites his lip, thinking.

Before he can say anything else, Loki suddenly speaks.

"Take this left up here. My building's the second on the right."

Thor does as he's instructed, pulling up along the curb. He glances out the windshield up at the building and frowns.

It a tenement building, pretty rundown looking. Compared to what he's used to, compared to his own, sprawling home… it's a striking and even unsettling contrast.

Thor realizes he's never really known anyone who was, well, he doesn't want to say poor, but this place looks less than middle class even.

"Th-thanks," he's disrupted from his thoughts by the sound of Loki's voice. "thanks for the ride. You really helped me out."

"Oh, uh, sure. Sure." Thor stumbles slightly, smiling back at the younger boy. "It was no problem."

Loki's staring back at him, hesitant.

"Well, I… guess I can get going. I just need some help with my chair." He says.

"Oh, right!" Thor says, suddenly remembering. "Hold on just a sec."

He isn't long retrieving the wheelchair from the trunk, and finds an easier time setting it back up than he'd had folding it down.

Loki waits patiently this time, watching him intently.

He still seems reluctant when Thor steps forward, bending down to help him out of the car and into the chair, but he allows the assistance without protest this time, thanking Thor when he grabs the book bag out from the back and hands it over to him, even smiling, though the expression is tight, his eyes still slightly red and puffy from his crying earlier.

"Thank you again." He says. "I can get up to my place from here. H-have a good night and drive safely."

He takes hold the wheels of his chair, beginning to turn towards the building.

Thor isn't sure what makes him do it, but he calls out.

"Wait!" He says, nearly shouts.

Loki stops, looking back over at him, expression almost nervous, wary.

"I, uh," Thor starts, feeling his own nerves take hold. He rubs distractedly at the back of his neck. "I was wondering, s-since I made the trip out here and all, maybe, um… maybe I could come up for a little while? We could maybe have a drink, or…"

Loki's face has slowly morphed into an almost horrified mask as Thor continues to talk, and eventually the larger man's voice dies away as he realizes it.

"Um, I mean, if it's not an inconvenience, or…" he tries again. "I just thought…"

"I… I don't have any alcohol." Loki finally stammers, his hands gripping almost white knuckled over the wheels of his chair. "I-I mean, I'm not really s-set up to entertain. My apartment's a mess and…"

"That's okay." Thor says, trying to reassure. "You should see my room at home. It looks like a bomb went off in there." He laughs, though that too dies away when he sees Loki isn't laughing with him, that he only looks more frightened than before, his already pale skin somehow paler. "Look, I mean, if you don't want me to come up…" he starts, not wanting to push Loki.

"It isn't that." Loki says hastily, worriedly. "It's just… I… I don't usually…"

He looks away then, his face seeming to pinch in anxiety, his mouth tight and brow furrowed.

Thor feels bad suddenly, feels like he should just say forget it, and maybe another time, but he gets the feeling doing so would only upset Loki more, and he doesn't know why.

"You can come up." Loki finally says. Only he says it like it's being dragged out of him, like it isn't what he really means at all.

Thor frowns, shaking his head.

"Loki, if you don't want me to come up, it's alright. You don't owe me anything. I was just helping out a friend."

Loki looks sharply up at him then, his features almost seeming shocked. For a moment, his mouth opens, as if he's going to say something, but then closes again, and he looks down at his lap.

"… It's not that I don't want you to come up." He repeats softly. "It's just that… I've never had anyone o-over before. I don't know how t-to… to…"

"Hey," Thor says. "it's alright. Loki, you don't need to entertain me. I just thought we could hang out for a little while. Maybe talk some. There's no pressure at all."

Thor finds himself almost holding his breath then as he waits for a response. He hadn't realized until that moment how much he actually wanted Loki to invite him up.

"Alright. For… for a little while?" Loki finally says, and Thor can't help the grin which spreads across his face.

"Alright!" He says in return. "Just lead the way!"


	8. Chapter 8

It's a struggle for Thor not to offer his help every few minutes with Loki, he thinks, standing beside the younger boy, watching as he roots around in his jacket pocket for his apartment key. He'd fought on the way up here not to say anything or offer to push or carry Loki in any way. Somehow Thor had just known it would upset him. Still, he's always been inclined towards wanting to help others, wanting to step in and give aide where he thinks it's needed. But he can see Loki works hard to hold onto what little pride he has, and the last thing Thor wants to do is crush that.

It's the same reason he hasn't yet given into the temptation to ask Loki what it is that happened to him. How he ended up in a wheel chair. Thor finds himself wondering if Loki had been born that way, or if something else had happened... He isn't stupid enough to ask though. He hopes, if he ever gains Loki's trust enough, that the other boy will maybe someday tell him.

He feels bad for Loki, and he knows that's unfair, knows the last thing Loki probably wants is his pity. But it's hard not to. Not when Loki so visibly struggles with day to day things which, for Thor and everyone else who isn't handicapped, don't give even a second thought to. Thor can't help thinking about how it must have taken nearly twice as long to get up the floors with Loki than it would have on his own.

"Ah!" Loki exclaims suddenly, jangling his keyring in the air. "Found it. S-sorry about that. I can never seem to remember which pocket I put them in."

He looks embarrassed and maybe even a little scared, and Thor feels his heart twist uncomfortably.

"That's alright." He says, smiling warmly. "Don't worry about it. I can never remember where I put anything either."

Loki looks up at him, smiling tightly before looking quickly away again, beginning to fumble with his keys, trying to find the right one.

Thor stands with his arms folded behind his back, watching as Loki finally locates it and brings it up to insert into the door's lock. He can't help but notice the way the younger boy's hands shake, and again, Thor feels his heart twist.

He looks away.

It takes a few, long seconds, but finally he hears Loki get it, turning the lock.

Thor looks back, and the other boy hesitates a moment, his hand on the knob.

"It... it's a little messy. I hope you don't mind." He says, glancing again quickly up at Thor.

Thor only smiles back, shaking his head.

"Like I said," he answers. "my own place looks like a hurricane swept through, so no judgment from me." He holds up his hands as if in surrender.

Loki only gives a vague nod, before, at last, he turns the knob and pushes the door open.

"A-after you." He says quietly.

Thor obeys, striding past the threshold, nearly having to duck his head down to keep it from brushing the top of the frame.

He expects to see an at least somewhat messy and, from the looks of the building's outside, tiny apartment. Well, the latter is certainly true. The place can't be more than seven or eight hundred square feet, just from an initial glance.

But for the life of him, Thor can't begin to understand what Loki meant by saying the place was messy.

Frankly, it's fucking immaculate.

He's never seen a tidier looking space.

If this is Loki's idea of messy, than he can't even imagine what his definition of clean might be.

He's distracted from his thoughts by the sound of a bell suddenly jingling at his feet, and glancing down, he sees a tiny, white kitten, looking up at him, its little paws resting on his hulking foot.

"Hey there little fella!" Thor exclaims, excited, bending down to pet him.

It's about the cutest cat Thor thinks he's ever seen.

Affectionate, too, if the way the little guy rubs almost violently up against him hand is any indication, already purring loudly.

While he's petting the kitten, he hears Loki wheel himself into the apartment and close the door behind himself, beginning to do up the locks.

Thor picks the cat up, marveling at his lightness, turning to watch Loki.

Again, the younger boy is clearly struggling, having a hard time reaching up to put the chain in place.

Thor can't help it anymore, stepping forward.

"Here, let me do that." He says.

He half expects Loki to snap at him, but instead his hand comes down and he almost slumps back into his seat.

"Could you?" He asks.

"Sure." Thor smiles, relieved, reaching out and putting the chain easily in place.

"Thanks." Loki says, sounding unreasonably grateful. "I don't like to leave the door unlocked. It... it's not the nicest neighborhood, and there's been more than a few break in's."

"No need to explain." Thor answers, smiling. He holds the kitten up a little. "He's adorable. Really sweet"

Loki swallows, seeming unsure a moment.

"Y-yeah." He at last answers. "I... I adopted him from the humane society. They had a booth set up on campus a while ago."

"I remember that!" Thor says excitedly. "I would've loved to get a puppy, but my parent's woulda' killed me." He laughs.

Loki only stares up at him, a look of seeming horror crossing his features, so intense it takes Thor aback.

"W-well, not literally." He stammers, not understanding the sudden urgency to explain himself. "They just wouldn't be too happy."

Loki blinks, the expression melting from his face.

"Oh," he says, looking away.

Thor feels abruptly like he's overstepped his bounds again, this time badly.

He struggles for something else to say, to do, trying to buy himself time as he bends to put Michael back on the floor.

The kitten immediately runs for Loki, leaping gracefully up onto his lap.

Loki lifts his hands, picking the cat up and holding him to his chest, bending down and kissing the top of his head.

"I've just got to feed him real quick." He tells Thor after a moment.

"Sure, absolutely." Thor nods, feeling somewhat relieved that whatever it was that had just happened between them seems to have passed.

"You can have a seat any... uh, anywhere you like." Loki says, before putting Michael back down on his lap and turning to wheel himself towards what looks like a kitchenette.

Thor stands awkwardly for a moment, looking around.

There's a kind of ratty, but, like the rest of the place, clean looking couch in front of a tragically small television, a knitted blanket thrown over its cushions. In front of the couch is a wooden coffee table, with a splay of magazines across the top. Titles like TIME and LIFE and NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC are visible.

Adjacent to that is a hard-backed, upholstered chair which looks, honestly, uncomfortable.

The television sits on top of a low bookshelf that's been reworked into a kind of sorry looking entertainment center, a couple of tiny computer speakers hooked up on either side of the set, and a standard, cheap DVD player sitting on the shelf beneath. A stack of DVD's sit neatly arranged beside the television, the library sticker plainly in view along the cases spines.

It's almost heartbreaking how much effort has clearly been put into the setup, and seeing how little it actually amounts to.

He hears Loki talking to his cat, his voice low and soft.

"Sorry I'm so late buddy." He's saying as he gets out a can of cat food from a stack of the stuff along one of the counters. "I hope you weren't too lonely."

Thor feels oddly like he's being invasive, and so he tries not to listen.

Dragging his eyes away from the entertainment setup, his gaze wonders over the walls.

They're sparse, mostly. Except, he notices, there's two posters, hung up low with pushpins, big, vibrant pictures of Freddie Mercury from Queen, performing in concert.

Thor can't help the grin which spreads across his face at the sight.

"You're a fan of Queen?" He asks, still looking at the posters.

He hears Loki place a dish along the floor, and then pause.

For a long moment there comes no reply, and Thor looks back at the younger boy, worried.

Only he finds Loki looking back at him, a mix of caution and surprise in his eyes, almost astonishment.

"I..." he finally starts, then pauses, before a very visible blush spreads across his cheeks and he looks away. "Freddie Mercury." He at last goes on, softly. "I really like him. I... I admire him a lot."

Thor nods, again smiling.

"Yeah. He's pretty amazing." He agrees.

Loki looks up at him, eyes suddenly vivid with excitement, in a way Thor's never before seen.

"I think he was a genius. I mean..." he starts. "His music is incredible and he... he didn't care what anyone th-thought of him. He was just... just himself."

Loki's voice trails off then, the enthusiasm of moments before seeming abruptly to drain away, his eyes lowering, almost embarrassed, like he's only just realized himself, like he'd somehow been inappropriate with his outburst.

"... I... um, I h-have some... some soda if... if you like. Or water." He stammers after a moment.

It takes Thor a second to catch up to the shift in conversation, and once more he finds his heart sinking, wondering what it is that makes Loki seemingly so reluctant, so afraid. That he seems ashamed even gives Thor a decidedly uneasy feeling.

Thor isn't any kind of an expert. But his Mother is, being a psychiatrist, and that's given him plenty of exposure to the different signs. With what Darcy's said, it wouldn't take an expert anyway to see. Loki acts like an abused kid. From everything Thor can glean, little as his interaction with Loki has been, he would say severely abused.

The liklyhood of that having something to do with his handicapped state is all too apparent, and to think of it nearly makes Thor dizzy with horror.

He doesn't know how to approach it even. Wouldn't know where to begin. Knows it probably isn't his business anyway. Last time he'd asked Loki about his family, it had clearly been incredibly upsetting to the younger boy, and Thor isn't keen on messing it up so badly with him again.

Still, it breaks Thor's heart, to see Loki this way. He wishes... he wishes he could introduce the boy to Mom. She could help him, he's sure of it.

But he knows too to even suggest it would probably have Loki kicking him out faster than he could blink.

And so he tries pushing the realization to the back of him mind, instead smiling weakly.

"Sure." He says. "I'll take a soda."

He watches Loki manuveur round Michael, going to the fridge and pulling it open.

"Is cream soda okay?" Thor hears him ask as, finally, he sits down on the couch.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, sure. That's fine." Thor answers distractedly, still looking around.

There's the sound of glasses being taken down, soda can lids being popped and liquid pouring. Thor wants to tell Loki it isn't necessary to go to all that trouble, but again, he's worried about coming across as condescending.

It's all a moot point anyway as, a minute later, Loki's wheeling out of the kitchen area and towards him. He's got two glasses of soda balanced on a tray on his lap, along with what looks like a package of cookies, and it's obvious to watch him that he's practiced at it.

The kitten is following close behind him, and Thor can't help but smile at the loyalty the little guy obviously has towards his owner.

Reaching the arm of the couch, Loki begins to lift the tray up and place it along the surface of the coffee table, sliding it along, closer to Thor.

"I hope this is alright." He says shyly, and Thor reaches forward, helping to slide the tray closer to the tables center.

"It's great!" He insists, genuinely. "Thank you!"

Loki only nods, rolling himself to sit along the other side of the table. Michael takes the opportunity to jump onto his lap, and Loki folds his long, thin hands over the kittens back, looking down.

Another, heavy silence follows, and Thor tries to fill it by picking up one of the glasses of soda, taking a sip and reaching for the bag of cookies. They're Keebler English Tea.

He finds himself struggling once more to think of something to say, picking apart the cookie as he does so, staring at the cream inside, when Loki's voice breaks the quiet.

"I d-don't have a lot of people over. I..." he starts, and Thor looks up at him, seeing his eyes still fixed on the kitten. "I've never had anyone over. I don't know w-what I'm doing, really, I..."

"Hey," Thor says, seeing Loki working himself up into a frenzy. "it's okay. This is great." He insists. "I'm enjoying myself."

Loki looks up at him then, uncertain.

"Really?" He asks.

He sounds so painfully hopeful and frightened, that for a moment, Thor feels his throat constrict. Jesus, he thinks, hasn't this kid ever had any friends?

He only nods though, forcing himself to smile.

"Yeah man. Look, I wanted to hang out with you, remember? You don't have to do anything to impress me."

Loki looks away then, his shoulders visibly stiffening as he nods.

Thor curses himself internally, realizing his tone may have been more abrupt than he intended.

Loki is so plainly skittish, seemingly terrified of pissing him off in some way, though Thor can't understand why, doesn't like to think he's given Loki any reason to feel that way. He thinks again of all the signs of abuse he's starting to recognize in the younger boy, wondering then if the two aren't clearly linked.

He's got to be more careful, he thinks. Be more gentle.

"You've got a really nice place here." He tries, hoping to distract Loki again. "Really nice set up."

Loki shrugs, his face still turned down.

"Thanks." He mutters softly.

He hesitates a moment then, picking at the material of his pants before, suddenly, he looks up at Thor.

"You... wh-what's your, um, major? In? That's what it's called here, yes?"

Thor blinks, taken aback a moment by the question. Only he finds himself smiling a moment later, genuinely.

"Yeah. That's what it's called. Well, it's kinda boring, to be honest."

Loki only continues staring back at him.

"My Dad kind of wants me to take over his business eventually, when I'm older. I don't really want to, but you know how it is. So I'm getting a degree in business. Or at least I'm trying to. I'm not the best student, ya know." He laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You just need to study harder." Loki says flatly. "You aren't stupid."

Another laugh bursts from Thor unintentionally, not expecting such bluntness from the shy boy.

"I'm sorry." Thor apologizes quickly, trying to reign his laughter in as he sees the confused and worried expression across Loki's face. "I'm not laughing at what you said. It's just... well, you're right. And thanks for saying I'm not stupid."

Loki blinks, shaking his head.

"I've met a number of stupid people." He says, with that same, flat tone. "You aren't."

Another huff of laughter escapes Thor's lips.

"Well, thanks." He says. "That means a lot coming from you."

That nearly earns Thor a smile, Loki's lips quirking very slightly up at the corners before the expression falls away again, his eyes averting.

Maybe he's finally getting somewhere then, Thor hopes, taking another sip of his soda, cramming the still uneaten cookie into his mouth.


	9. Chapter 9

They end up watching a Queen concert together. Loki has a collection of them, which he actually owns. The one thing he splurges on, he tells Thor.

Thor knows better than to say how that admission makes him sad.

He's never really wanted for anything. In an abstract way, he's always known that. But he's never really known anyone either who... well, who didn't have a lot of money. Who wasn't well off, to put it bluntly.

Seeing where and how Loki lives, even just a glimpse of it, is starting to force him to understand that he's never really understood what it means to be poor.

Again though, he knows better than to say anything of that.

He'd helped Loki to move to the couch after setting the DVD up for him, and it had been sweet, Thor thought, just how incredibly enthused the younger boy had gotten during the show. The start of each new song sung by Freddy Mercury instigated a burst of exclamation from Loki that Thor "had to watch this". And so Thor had, agreeing completely and sincerely every time Loki said how amazing Mercury was.

It was about halfway through the concert when Thor had felt the weight of Loki leaning suddenly against his shoulder, and glancing down at him, he'd seen the boy with his eyes drooped closed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, sleeping.

Michael was curled up in his lap, perfectly comfortable it seemed, and Thor hadn't been able to keep himself from smiling at the sight.

It was only a few minutes afterward that Thor realized his slight predicament. Glancing at his watch, he'd seen it was getting late. Past midnight already.

He and Loki had sat talking for a while before they'd decided on the concert, and time had simply gotten away from them both, he supposed.

Loki, he thought, must have been incredibly exhausted. He'd had no idea what time the younger boy usually got to sleep, but he could take a guess that it was much earlier than this.

Trying to think through what to do, how to maybe move Loki to his bed without waking him, he'd let the concert run to it's end, and then sat thinking some more.

Glancing at Michael now, the kitten was sitting up, staring at Thor as if to spur him to action.

"You think it'd be okay if I brought him to his room?" He asks the little guy.

Michael swishes his tail, and Thor takes that as a yes.

He hopes it's the right thing to do.

It's just... he isn't at all comfortable with leaving Loki on the couch. Not with... not with the way he is. He doesn't know much about people who are confined to wheelchairs, but he can guess that it probably isn't okay for them to lie too long in any one position that's hard on your back.

"Alright Mike, let's go then." Thor tells the kitten, slowly pulling himself out from under Loki's slight weight, making sure to catch him before he can fall over.

Carefully he removes Loki's seeing glasses, setting them down on the couch, before bending to take him up.

Lifting him is, again, almost too easy for how light he is, and Thor tries to be careful not to wake him. That would be an awkward situation, he thinks amusedly to himself.

Cradling the boy against his chest, he again looks to Michael, who's leaped gracefully onto the floor.

"Point me in the right direction?" He whispers to the cat, and again, Michael seems to understand him, trotting away out of the living area.

Thor follows slowly behind, trying not to jostle Loki at all. Though, it seems, Loki really is conked out, not stirring the least bit.

It bothers Thor, in a way, carrying him like this, seeing how truly off guard and vulnerable he is in that moment.

He just knows it would upset Loki to realize it.

Michael trots happily through a doorway near the very back of the tiny apartment, and Thor follows on his heels.

The lights are out, but from what illumination pours in from the main apartment, Thor can easily enough make out a mattress at the other side of the small room. A bare mattress, he notices, without any sort of frame or box spring.

Moving carefully towards it, he gingerly squats down to one knee and, still holding Loki to his chest, pulls the covers back with his free hand, before gently as he's able, lying the other boy down across the bed. He takes particular care of Loki's legs, making sure to lie them flat and straight.

It's strange, he thinks, how easily he's able to shift and manipulate the limbs, all the while knowing Loki has no control over them at all. It's heartbreaking, truly.

There's a lamp along a nightstand nearby, and Thor reaches up to turn it on, making sure the light is facing away from Loki so as not to disturb him.

The small lamp giving a better view of things, Thor sees a number of orange prescription bottles along the nightstand, wondering idly what they might be for before forcing himself to ignore his curiosity, knowing it's none of his business.

Glancing briefly round the room, he sees some more posters hanging on the walls, pictures of animals. Tigers and bears and buffalo's.

There's a short bookcase pushed up along the opposite wall to the bed, crammed with books from top to bottom, beaten up looking soft covers.

Along an adjacent wall there's a writing desk, a little dinged up, and an office chair tucked in against it, its vinyl upholstering torn and split into cracks along the seat and backing.

Moving his eyes down to Loki, Thor sighs.

Michael is already curled up beside him, up against his shoulder, eyes closed and purring softly.

Thor gives the kitten a little rub along his head, smiling.

"Thanks Michael." He whispers.

Returning his gaze back to Loki, Thor looks over him, trying to determine if there's anything else he should do before he leaves the boy to sleep for the night.

He notices Loki's shoes then. Notices, for the first time, that they're thick soled, white sneakers. The kind people who suffer from severe pain in the back or hips or knees might wear, or in the feet or ankles. Orthopedic shoes, with Velcro straps in place of laces.

Thor wonders at it, suddenly. He'd just assumed that since... since Loki was obviously paralyzed from the waist down, he must not feel any pain below a certain area. But he isn't so sure now.

He recalls then seeing how stiffly, at times, Loki moves, either bending over or reaching for something or whatever. How difficult it seems for him sometimes...

God, Thor thinks, he can't even begin to imagine how hard this poor kid's life must really be. The depth of it is something he's only just now starting to grasp.

Forcing the morbid thoughts from his mind, he instead goes about the task of removing Loki's shoes, being careful as he undoes the Velcro and pulls them off one at a time. He takes Loki's socks off as well, balling them up and putting them in the shoes, leaving them beside the bed.

Loki's feet are like the rest of him. Delicate and fine-boned and pale. Nice. They're nice feet, just like all of Loki. He's a handsome kid, almost beautiful, really, and again, Thor is struck by a near overwhelming sense of sadness as he thinks of it.

How just to look at Loki's feet and legs, you'd never guess they were so broken, so useless to him. They look so perfectly formed.

Once more shaking his head from the thoughts, Thor gently pulls the covers up to just under Loki's shoulders, making sure not to disturb Michael in the process.

He gives the kitten another pat on the head before pushing himself up to his feet.

He remembers suddenly then Loki's chair, knowing the younger boy will need it when he wakes in the morning, and so he quickly hurries out of the room, finding it by the couch where it had been left. He sees Loki's glasses still on the couch too, and grabs those while he's at it, bringing both into the bedroom and placing them beside the mattress, in easy reach.

Turning the lamp off on the nightstand, he makes his way quietly out of the room, closing the door partway on his way out.

It isn't until he's standing out in the living area again, looking for his jacket, that he realizes once more how late it is. Realizes, too, he can't really leave Loki's apartment and lock the door behind him, remembering the point the younger boy had made to him about it.

Looking back at the partially ajar bedroom door, Thor wonders if maybe it wouldn't be better for him to simply spend the night here, out on the couch. It would probably be the best option, overall.

Deliberating it a few minutes more, he decides it is. He won't run the risk of leaving Loki in an unlocked apartment in a less than safe neighborhood, that way.

He just hopes Loki doesn't end up minding.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"I'm sorry! I... I-I'm s-sorry!" Loki stammers badly, hands raising defensively, uselessly, flinching back violently and losing his footing as his father comes striding towards him, bad intent burning in his eyes.

Scrambling back, trying to beg forgiveness once more, a strangled gasp is all Loki gets out before Laufey has a hold of him by the arm, his powerful hand gripping painfully tight, twisting, and for a moment, Loki thinks he'll break the limb.

Only his father jerks him up off the ground, to his feet, shoving him viciously backwards against the wall, hard enough that Loki hits the back of his skull, white and ringing exploding in his head, dizziness, and he crumples back to the floor in a tangled heap.

He'd been caught reading again. Stupid, stupid, he thinks desperately to himself, feeling his eyes fill thick with hot tears. He knew better than to try and sneak his brother's books. Knew better than to go against his father's rules. Yet still he'd done so. And now he was going to pay the price.

Bylistr and Helblindi are standing back, watching the scene, smirking with eyes bright. Loki tries not to look at them.

"Get up!" Laufey snarls, voice loud and booming. "Get up you little fagot, and get those clothes off!"

Loki shakes his head dismally, curling in on himself in some hopeless denial.

"Please," he whimpers pitifully. "please, d-don't, I... I'm s-sorry... I'm sorry." His voice breaks and cracks with his tears.

"Get your fucking clothes off boy, or so help me, I'll beat you to fucking death!" Laufey again screams, and Loki knows better than to argue anymore.

Scrambling up to his knees, and then his feet, trying not to fall again with the way the room spins and nausea blooms in his belly, he beings with trembling hands to unbutton his shirt.

"Faster, you useless sack of shit!" Laufey again snaps, and Loki tries. Only he can't make his fingers work, his entire frame shaking uncontrollably in his fear.

"Fuckin' idiot..." His father mutters angrily, before abruptly turning to Helblindi and Bylistr. "Go get his clothes off." He orders the two older boys.

They comply without hesitation, striding towards Loki, their smirks broadening into grins, and Loki sobs desperately now, loudly, as he shrinks back against the wall, his fear nearly making him choke.

He doesn't even try to resist, falling limp as Bylistr tears his shirt off, ripping the buttons, and Helblindi grabs hold the waistband of his pants, yanking them almost violently down, taking his underwear with them.

Within a moment, Loki is standing naked except for his hole-ridden socks, trying in vain to cover himself up, his face burning red hot with humiliation.

Laufey glares at him with utter disgust, shaking his head. His brother's mirror the expression wholly, seeming repulsed.

"Look at that shit." Helblindi says. "Look at that scrawny little body."

"Pathetic." Bylistr confirms.

Loki's eyes fill with fresh tears, and he turns his face away, trying to hide.

"Move." Laufey orders his older sons, and within a moment, he's on Loki, grabbing hold of his face between his rough fingers, forcing his youngest to look up at him. He sneers with disdain, and then, without warning, he slams a hard formed fist right into Loki's face.

Loki feels his nose shatter instantly, blood exploding out of his nostrils and a flash of blinding white erupting behind his eyes.

There's the sensation of falling, but before he can hit the floor, he feels another crushing blow drill into his stomach, stealing the breath from his lungs instantly.

He collapses to the ground, gasping and choking desperately, unable to breathe, curling instinctively into himself, arms over his head. He's barely given a moment to recover, before he feels his father's boot crush brutally against his side, into his rib. Something snaps, audibly, pain racking through him like a lance, a choked off cry getting caught in his throat.

"D-Daddy!" He sobs brokenly. "Daddy, p-please! Please!"

But it only makes Laufey angrier, kicking Loki again with more force.

Loki shuts up after that, trying vainly to set his thoughts adrift. To go someplace else. Anywhere... anywhere else.

Somewhere, he's aware of the sound of his brother's laughing, and the crack of his father's belt, before he feels the lash of its leather like lightening, the metal buckle catching and tearing his skin, pulling him mercilessly back to reality.

All he can do then is wait for it to stop. Wait for Laufey to get tired, and for all of this to stop.

Please, please God, make it stop...

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Loki's eyes come open, staring blankly ahead at nothing.

For a moment, he doesn't know where he is, but the memory clings to his thoughts unrelentingly, the sting of his father's belt like a ghost, the agony of it almost still there on his body.

He exhales shakily, blinking rapidly as he tries to remember where he is, what it is that's...

A tiny mew draws him from his mind, the feel of a warm, soft body against his arm, and shifting his gaze, he sees Michael, rubbing up against him, staring into his face only a few inches away.

Loki swallows, his throat dry, and lifting his arm, he reaches over to pet the kitten's head.

"Hi Michael." He breathes, voice scratchy.

Michael mews again, before hopping off the mattress and running out the partially ajar bedroom door.

Bedroom door? Loki's brow furrows, confused.

How did... when did he...?

He blinks again, and things start to come into focus.

His chair's by the bed, along with his shoes. He notices his socks balled up and stuffed into them, which is odd. He never does that...

And then, like a flash, he suddenly remembers.

Thor. Thor had been here last night. They'd talked for a while and then... then they'd watched a concert and Loki had... he'd...

He can't remember.

He must have... must have fallen asleep. Only... how did he get here, in his room then?

And very suddenly that occurs to him too, and almost instantly, he feels his face heat red with embarrassment.

Thor brought him in. He must have carried him from the living room to his bed and...

Oh, God...

Burying his face in his hands, Loki can only lay there a few, long minutes, trying to fight down his own humiliation.

Some host he turned out to be, he thinks miserably. Falls asleep and his guest gets to put him to bed like some little child. Thor had even, apparently, done him the service of removing his sneakers and socks and placing them within reach, along with his char.

If the older boy wasn't disgusted by him before, he must surely be now, Loki thinks.

Allowing himself to wallow in his own misery a few minutes longer, Loki finally pushes himself up to sitting when he becomes aware of having to pee.

Dragging himself over to his chair, which, thankfully, Thor obviously had the foresight to place facing him, Loki grabs hold of the arm rests and begins pulling himself up.

And then the chair rolls out from under him, and he crashes, hard, to the floor.

"Fuck," he gasps, pain throbbing where he hit his elbow against the hardwood flooring.

Apparently, Thor didn't have the foresight to lock the chair.

Loki should have known better than to expect him to have. He wouldn't know something like that.

Picking himself up and dragging himself back to the chair, now a few feet away, he finds the locking mechanism of the wheels and tries again, this time successfully getting himself up. He struggles a few seconds to get himself turned around, and by the time he flops down in the seat, he's already breathing kind of hard.

God, he really needs to start working out or something. He's so out of shape.

Taking a moment to recover, he sets about getting a fresh pair of clothing from his chest of drawers, before rolling himself towards his rooms door, and out into the rest of the apartment.

He almost chokes on his own spit when he sees Thor standing there in the kitchen, frying something up on the tiny, counter-top stove he has, humming cheerfully to himself.

"Thor?" He breathes aloud, unable to hide the surprise from his voice.

Thor whirls around, evidently taken off guard, his eyes wide. The moment he sees Loki though, he grins broadly.

"Morning!" He nearly shouts, voice loud and booming. Loki tries not to flinch back at the volume. Can't help the way it makes him tense.

"You're still here." He says, still sounding shocked.

"Uh, yeah." Thor answers, rubbing the back of his neck, a gesture Loki's long already picked up on a show of nervousness from the older boy. "I... I hope you don't mind. It was just, it was getting pretty late last night and I didn't want to leave your door unlocked when I left b-because of what you'd said and... well, I didn't know where your key was anyway and, um..." he trails off after a moment, before turning abruptly and picking up the pan from the stove, holding it aloft for Loki to see a moment later.

"I'm making some eggs, if you're hungry. I make a pretty good omelet."

Loki can only stare blankly a moment, unable to speak.

He hadn't... hadn't expected Thor to still be here. Not at all. If anything he'd feared... feared Thor would have left angry, even... even disgusted.

But instead there he is, offering him breakfast.

"Hey, are you okay?" Thor's voice breaks him out of his thoughts, and he blinks, the older boy's face coming back into focus.

"Uh, y-yeah." Loki stammers, feeling his cheeks heat. "Sorry, I was just... I didn't think..." he shakes his head. "N-nevermind. I was just... I just had to use the bathroom for a few minutes. B-but yeah, yeah. I'd love to eat." He summons a smile, though the expression feels strained, even to him. He hopes Thor doesn't notice.

Apparently he does though, because he asks a moment later if it's alright that he stayed the night and again there's that nervousness in him. Loki realizes then that Thor might feel almost as off balance as he does, and something in that, in seeing someone so, well, perfect, being so unsure of himself, helps Loki to not feel so afraid.

He smiles again, this time more genuinely, giving a nod.

"Y-yeah. It's fine. It's... it's fine." He struggles a moment. "I'll... I'll just a be a minute or two and then I'll join you."

Feeling like a total idiot, Loki quickly turns his chair and heads for the bathroom. He hears the jingle of Michael's bell as he follows him in, and Loki makes sure the kitten is through the door before closing it.

Once he does, he leans over on his knees, again hiding his face in his hands and breathing deeply, trying to compose himself.

He doesn't understand why he gets this way around Thor. Why he feels so worried about pleasing him.

He guesses maybe it's because he's never really had anyone who... who wanted to be his friend. Someone who actually sought him out the way Thor has. There's Darcy, but she... she works with him. She doesn't really have a choice but to get along with him, even though he knows she genuinely likes him. It's just...

He doesn't want to mess this up, he realizes. He doesn't want to make Thor hate him, the way his... the way...

Michael mewing again snaps him from his thoughts, and looking down, he sees the kitten staring up at him, almost expectantly.

"Right." He says. "Sorry fella."

He reaches down to give Michael's head a stroke, before straightening back up, turning to get ready.

It's always a chore, going to the bathroom, getting dressed, etc... It takes him a long time, he knows. Longer than any normal person would take.

He hopes Thor doesn't get angry at him for making him wait.

He'll be quick, he decides then.

He'll try to be quick.


	10. Chapter 10

Thor's been sitting here for maybe fifteen minutes, waiting for Loki to come out of the bathroom. He hasn't started eating yet, not wanting to do so without the other boy present. Logically he knows this is probably normal. That it would take Loki longer than most to get up and going in the morning. Irrationally though, Thor can't help worrying.

He hopes he hasn't upset the other boy by spending the night. Loki had said it was okay, but... Thor isn't sure. He has trouble reading Loki's emotions at times.

Another five minutes, and Thor can hardly stand it.

He stands, moving towards the still closed bathroom door. Reaching it, he knocks lightly, biting his lip. He can hear Loki in there, moving around.

"Loki?" He calls.

A few, long seconds pass before he hears any sort of reply.

"Y-yeah. I'm... I'll just be a minute more!" Loki calls back, and Thor can't help the relief he feels.

"Are you alright in there?" He asks.

"Yes, thank you." Loki says. His voice is soft and muffled behind the door, making it even more difficult than usual to hear him. "I'll just be a minute."

"... Okay." Thor answers, feeling foolish, before turning away and heading back to the kitchen table.

It's maybe another three or four minutes before, finally, the bathroom door comes open, and Loki comes rolling out, Michael, as usual, right at his side.

He's wearing a different set of clothes, a white button up shirt which he's tucked neatly into the waistline of his pants, and a nice, if obviously cheap pair of slacks. He's combed his hair back too, and looks generally fresher than when he'd first come out of his room.

Thor is happy to see it.

"Sorry I took so long." Loki mutters as he comes up to the table, sounding slightly embarrassed. "It... uh, it takes me a while sometimes, in... in the morning."

Thor smiles brightly, shaking his head.

"That's okay. Sorry if I, um... sounded pushy or something. I just wanted to make sure you were alright."

Loki gives him a lopsided smile, still looking a little uncomfortable. Michael jumps up onto his lap.

"I know, I'm... pretty pathetic, aren't I?" He laughs, the sound bitter, and Thor frowns, feeling his heart sink.

"No, that... that isn't what I meant!" He hurries to explain himself. "I just..."

Loki shakes his head.

"It's alright." He says. "I get it." He shrugs, almost boredly. "I'm in a wheelchair. I can't even piss standing up. I've got to sit on the loo like a girl. It must be strange to someone like you."

For a moment, Loki's voice sounds unusually angry, his face twisting in disgust, before he seems abruptly to remember himself, his features smoothing and his eyes going wide.

He looks away.

"I'm sorry." He mumbles. "I'm sorry, I... that was rude. I didn't mean..."

For a moment, Thor isn't sure what to say. He feels taken aback, almost stunned at the show of temper on Loki's part. Though, as he allows himself to remember, he again recalls Darcy's warnings about the younger boy, and how he hated to be pitied.

He also allows himself to remember that, despite really liking Loki, he doesn't really at all know the younger boy yet.

Doesn't really know anything about him, beyond a few, basic facts. And the slap in the face realization of how Loki's handicap limits him has similarly left Thor at a loss.

"No, I'm sorry." He says, finally regaining his composure. "I shouldn't... shouldn't make assumptions about you."

Loki sighs heavily, still looking away. He seems frustrated, still edgy, his hands fidgeting where they pet Michael.

"... I've got a temper." He says after a moment. And then he gives a laugh, derisive sounding. "It's ironic, right? Me, getting angry at anyone, with nothing to back it up. My... m-my father used warn me about that. Used to t-tell me it would get me in trouble. Used to sh... show me..."

The younger boy's voice trails off then, and he gives a weak shrug, turning away.

If Thor hadn't been certain before of an abusive background, he is now, with a likely source of blame to boot.

He feels sick.

He feels sick hearing Loki talking about himself the way he does. Like he... like he really believes all those horrible things about himself.

"Listen," he starts after a moment, wanting suddenly, desperately, to shift away from the negativity. To focus on something that might actually help Loki. Might actually show the other boy that Thor was sincere in wanting to be his friend. "how about after we eat breakfast, we go out and just hang out around town. Have you been to Rodeo Drive? We can go shopping around there."

Loki blinks back at him, for a moment looking utterly lost. It takes Thor only a moment longer to realize that he is.

"It's a, uh, an up scale shopping district in Beverly Hills. I just thought it might be fun to go for the afternoon. If you wanted to, I mean."

Loki continues to stare back at him for a seemingly long time, his expression almost uncomprehending, until finally he shakes his head, swallowing visibly.

"I... I w-wouldn't belong in a place like that." He finally stammers out, and Thor feels his heart sink.

"Don't be silly." He tries. "Of course you would."

But Loki only shakes his head again, looking away.

"No, I..." he hesitates, like he's searching for the right thing to say, not knowing what. "I don't have any money." He finally settles on, his face turning flushed with the confession.

"That's no problem. I'll just pay for you." Thor says, smiling, happy at the simple solution.

If he'd expected Loki to return his enthusiasm though, he's met with a blunt realty check a moment later, when the younger boy's face grows immediately irritated, even angry again.

"I don't need you to pay for me Thor." He says flatly, voice edged with displeasure, and Thor realizes his blunder quickly. Realizes that he's just insulted Loki, without even meaning to.

Jesus, he was such an idiot.

"I'm sorry." He quickly starts to apologize. "I didn't mean to imply..."

But Loki cuts him short, shaking his head again.

"Thor... look." He pauses, hands fidgeting at the plate of food in front of him, stabbing at his eggs, but not moving at all to eat them. "You've been really nice. I... don't know why. I'm just guessing you're a good guy. And I... I appreciate it. I really do. But..." again, he pauses, and a bitter half-laugh escapes his throat. "I'll just be an embarrassment to you."

"That's not true." Thor cuts in, horrified. "I wouldn't..."

"You don't think you would." Loki talks right over him this time. "That's because you've never been friends with someone like me, I'm guessing." He smiles at Thor, the expression almost sweet, and in an instant, Thor realizes Loki can see straight through him. That he can see exactly what kind of person Thor had been just a few months before, before he'd graduated high school. And he was right. He never had been friends with someone like Loki. With someone who wasn't already popular and well liked among their peers. And it was for exactly the reasons Loki had just said. Because Thor had been too embarrassed by the prospect of being seen with them to even consider it a possibility.

It shames him to think of it now. To think how shallow and pathetic that had been.

"Look," Loki starts again. "I don't want to make things hard for you Thor. You really have been nice to me, and I really do appreciate it. But what would happen if one of your other friends saw you going around with me? The gimp in the wheelchair. What would they think?"

Thor frowns, an abrupt shot of anger going through him.

"It doesn't matter what they'd think." He snaps, annoyed.

But Loki only continues to smile that same, knowing smile, and Thor knows he can see it in him. That it does matter. Thor's friends would never stop teasing him about it, would probably accuse him of taking Loki on as some sort of pet project, to get extra credits or just as some sort of fantasy fetish he wanted to try out. That wasn't... wasn't true, of course. At least... Thor didn't think it was true.

He genuinely liked Loki. Genuinely enjoyed his company. He was a great kid, who deserved to have a friend.

Again, the younger boy's voice cuts through his thoughts, all too knowing.

"I don't want your friendship Thor if you're only doing it because you feel sorry for me. I don't need your charity. I know it looks like I don't have much." Loki shrugs then, looking away, around at the tiny apartment. "I guess I don't. But... it's better than what I had. I came to this country on my own, with my own money, and I've gotten this far on my own. I just... I like you Thor. I do. I'd like to be your friend. But I don't want you dragging me round and showing me off like your personal good will project. Okay?"

Thor swallows, feeling a fresh wave of shame, biting his lip. He nods, embarrassed at how clumsily he's managed to handle everything, and even more so at how monumentally he seems to have misjudged the boy sitting across from him.

Certainly, Loki was someone who could use help. Was someone who was in need of help, even. But Thor was starting to see in that moment that those things didn't necessarily mean Loki was weak. Thor too was beginning to realize he knew very little about who Loki was or where he'd come from. He'd only had the scarcest information to work from, only vague comments which he himself was making assumptions off of.

He feels so abruptly stupid, and selfish, needing for a moment to look away.

Finally, after a moment, he nods.

"You're right." He manages, forcing his gaze back to Loki. Loki, he notices, looks slightly uneasy, and Thor realizes then how difficult that was just now, for Loki to confront him the way he did. He's worried looking, like he's afraid he's just given Thor an excuse to back out, to break off their friendship entirely. Looks like he even expects it now.

Thor shakes his head. Loki really does want to be his friend, and it makes both an incredible warmth and a deep melancholy wash through him to realize it.

"I mean it when I say I really like you too Loki." Thor pushes himself forward. "I don't just feel sorry for you. I... I do feel bad. I don't want to be dishonest. I do feel bad for you."

He watches Loki's frame visibly stiffen at the comment, but the younger boy doesn't disrupt or speak, and so Thor presses on, needing to explain, knowing Loki is giving him the chance to do so.

"But more than that, I think you're really great to be around. You're funny and incredibly smart and... and nice. And I know you wouldn't bullshit me. You tell me exactly what you're thinking. I don't really have any other friends like that. I love my friends, but I'm not completely stupid. I know they suck up to me a lot. And I'll admit I like it. But it's refreshing talking to you, because you don't. You don't kiss my ass, and I think that's really cool."

Thor can feel his face going red, even as the words leave his mouth, but he forces himself to keep his eyes on Loki, wanting the other boy to understand he means it.

It's a relief then, when Loki smiles back at him, the expression hesitant but somehow, also, relieved, and he nods, his rigid shoulders softening.

"Okay." He says, nodding again. "Okay. Let's be friends."

Thor can't help his own grin then.

Can't help the feeling of happiness which blooms in his chest.

And he doesn't even know why. Just knows Loki wants to be his friend, and it's one of the best feelings he's ever had in his life.


	11. Chapter 11

“Hello!?” 

Frigga hears her son's booming voice echoing in from their home's foyer, easily reaching her ears in the kitchen. She smiles, wiping her hands on the dish towel, hanging on the stoves handle.

She'd decided to come in from the office early today and surprise Thor and Odin with a fresh batch of their favorite cookies. She hears surprise in Thor's voice, knowing he must have seen her car parked out in the driveway, clearly not expecting her home until later that evening. 

She'd dealt with her own surprise, and vague concern, late last night, before falling asleep, when Thor hadn't come home from Sif's as expected. Though she hadn't been overly worried, as her son had a tendency to spend the night at his friend's homes, whenever he felt so inclined.

Still, it had been a relief to her when she'd woken up in the morning and found a message from him on her phone, explaining that he'd ended up staying too late at a friend's house, and he likely wouldn't make it back until probably the late afternoon.

It hadn't escaped her notice, either, that he'd said a “friend's” house, and not Sif's, and she couldn't help wondering with mild apprehension just where he'd actually been last night.

Thor was a good boy, generally well behaved and well mannered. But Frigga wasn't anywhere near naive, and she understood too that he was at an age where mischief could often prove more than a little attractive. Her son, after all, had had more than his fair share of incidents which involved him coming home drunk, needing to be carried in by Fandral or Volstagg. 

Frigga thanked whatever God there might be that her son at least had friend's responsible enough to know when he was going to need help getting home.

She's distracted from her thoughts suddenly by the sound of Thor's voice again. Only now he isn't calling out, but talking lowly, almost as if in conversation with someone.

Her suspicions are confirmed then at the sound of another voice, far softer, though distinctly male.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, she begins striding from the kitchen, towards the foyer, the sound of her son's voice grows more and more distinct the nearer she draws, as well as that of the visitor.

“I know. I'm sorry.” Thor is saying. “I didn't expect anyone to be here. But I promise, it's not a big deal. Mom won't be angry, believe me.”

“B-but I... I don't want to impose.” The visitor returns, and Frigga notices now the thick, heavy accent of his voice. Scandinavian sounding, though, strangely, with a hint of English too. He sounds nervous, almost scared, and she finds her interest only more peaked.

“You aren't.” Thor says. “Seriously. It's okay Loki.”

Frigga rounds the corner into the foyer just then, smiling broadly as her eyes fall over her son, his broad, muscular back turned towards her.

And then her eyes fall to the visitor, and her smile very nearly vanishes.

She stops short, breath stuttering in her throat. He sees her in the same moment she sees him, this young boy, no more than 17 or 18, confined, very obviously, to a wheelchair. 

The first thing to strike her about him is how very handsome he is, and with that follows an immediate sadness, almost shocking in it's strength. She doesn't even know this boy, but something about him...

He seems wilting, small and tragic, though she can tell just to glance at him, if he could stand, he would be nearly as tall as her son. Something about that, too, only makes her heart ache more.

He's staring back at her with large, frightened eyes, so astonishingly green, and just as equally intelligent, that for a moment, Frigga feels her own thoughts short out, taken aback by the depth she sees there. 

She doesn't even need to hear him talk to know this kid is smart. And yet with that, still, that wilting smallness, the paradox of it only too plain. Frigga works everyday with highly intelligent people, treats many of them as patients even... she knows from firsthand experience that intelligent people can often suffer from emotional difficulties, whether from the constant whir of their own ceaseless thoughts, or from a feeling of isolation, of not fitting in with the other, more average people around them. But she also knows there can often be found an incredible confidence and surety in people of intelligence. Often they know how smart they are, and they find security in that.

This boy looks anything but sure of himself. 

She can't understand why he's looking up at her with such blatant fear, but it makes her distinctly uncomfortable, and she has to work to keep her smile in place and her voice steady.

“Hi honey,” she starts, stepping forward, shifting her gaze back to her son.

Thor starts, spinning round, clearly unaware of her having arrived.

“Mom!” He says, smiling gooffily, and Frigga can't help her own grin. Thor has always been so enthusiastic, about everything, and it's always had a tendency to rub off on those around him. 

Quickly he closes the distance between them, enveloping her in one of his bone crushing hugs, and Frigga laughs, hugging him back.

She can't help it as her eyes drop back to the boy in the wheelchair, can't help but notice the way he looks away from her and Thor, arms crossing over himself in obvious discomfort.

She and Thor embrace a few moments longer, before finally they part, Frigga placing her hands on his broad shoulders, smiling softly up at him.

“Sorry I didn't make it home last night.” He tells her, his massive hands holding her gently by the elbows.

She shrugs.

“It's alright. You called.” She tells him, and she can feel his shoulders relax, relief playing over his features. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?” She asks then, bluntly, nodding towards the boy.

Looking to him, she sees the boy duck his face down, his cheeks coloring vaguely.

“Oh, yeah!” Thor exclaims excitedly, turning then towards their guest. “Mom, this is Loki. We met at the University Library. He works there.”

Frigga smiles, finally moving towards the boy, holding out her hand to him.

“Oh, a student?” She asks politely.

The boy's... Loki's, cheeks flush harder, and Frigga momentarily finds herself confused at the reaction.

“Uh, Loki's not, um, a... a student Mom.” Thor finally starts, sounding unsure and even a little worried. “He w-works full time at the library.”

Oh...

Oh!

Frigga feels her own rush of embarrassment, and then slight shame at having assumed so readily about the boy.

“I'm sorry.” She says, trying to recover, still holding her hand out.

At last Loki takes it, his grip weak, his hand dry and soft.

“I-it's alright.” He stammers slightly, glancing up at her and smiling shyly.

Oh, he's a doll, she thinks then, overcome suddenly with the urge to give the poor boy a hug.

“I spent last night over at Loki's apartment.” Thor supplies. “And I thought I'd bring him over to see our place. We were out shopping at Rodeo.”

Frigga nods, eyes scanning over Loki's attire. His clothes are cheap, though he's well put together. She doesn't want to make any further assumptions about the boy, but she'd venture to guess he probably doesn't come from any kind of money. 

He's clearly overwhelmed, and embarrassed, and she finds herself hoping suddenly that her son hasn't caused the boy any unneeded shame. Thor always means well, but he can often be blind to the discomfort of others. He has a tendency to assume if he's having fun, then so is everyone else.

“I d-don't mean to be an im-imposition.” Loki starts, almost flustered. Worried. He's scared, Frigga realizes, afraid that his presence here is going to offend her. “I-if you'd rather I leave...”

“No!” Frigga exclaims, maybe a little too enthusiastically. “No, no, please...” she smiles, hoping to calm the boy's nerves. “come in. I've just made a batch of fresh cookies. We'd be more than pleased to have you as our guest.”

“See, I told you.” Thor smiles, punching Loki lightly along the shoulder.

Loki smiles tightly up at her son, before turning his gaze back to her.

“O-okay.” He says.

“Perfect!” Frigga clasps her hands together, pleased. “We can sit in the living room.” 

//

Loki can't believe this.

Can't believe any of it.

He'd been hesitant to agree when Thor had suggested they go back to his house after taking him round to shop after shop in Rodeo Drive, all of which had left Loki feeling dizzy with fear and self-consciousness, certain everyone there had been looking at him, sneering at him with disgust and laughter for his cheap clothes and pitiful state.

Thor had tried to assure him that wasn't so, but Loki hadn't found himself able to believe it. Every time he happened to catch another person's eye, he saw them staring at him with a mixture of pity and repulsion, and he couldn't stand it. He couldn't take it.

Thor too had insisted on buying him clothes. Expensive clothes.

Loki has been beside himself, not knowing how to respond, as Thor had asked him what his sizes were, telling him he could pick out anything he liked. 

Loki didn't know what he liked. He's always bought clothes based more on what he could afford than anything else. He tried to buy stuff that would look good, sure, but the truth was, he didn't know anything about clothes. A fact made painfully clear to him by Darcy, who laughed just about every time he came into work wearing a new outfit.

He shopped at the Salvation Army, a fact that had made his face color in shame when he'd thought of it, sitting there in the middle of those ultra fancy fashion boutiques. Thor would laugh for certain if he knew. 

He'd made the mistake of glancing at the price tag of a leather jacket in one store, and had almost passed out as he'd read $5,000.00. 

Thor, at some point, realized that he didn't know what he was doing, and started helping him to pick out different articles, telling him to go into the dressing rooms and try each piece on. Something Loki hadn't wanted to do. Something he'd tried to dissuade Thor from by telling him it would take him forever to try each piece. But Thor had only smiled and told him it was alright, that there was no rush.

Loki had wanted to scream.

Thor was so nice, but he could also be so oblivious. 

Loki hadn't wanted to seem ungrateful by flat out telling the older boy that he didn't want to do it, didn't even really want to be there, didn't want new, fancy clothes. And so he'd swallowed down his complaints and reservations, and simply done as he was told.

And it hadn't been any sort of exaggeration when he'd told Thor it would take him forever to try each new outfit. 

He'd struggled immensely with the clothes, their tight fit and intricate fastenings giving him hell, to the point he'd nearly broken down into tears several times, both with frustration and humiliation at being so inept. 

It didn't help that every time he finally managed to get into some new article, he'd come out, and Thor would gush over how great he looked, while whatever attendant was helping them would look at him with skeptical and irritated eyes, clearly annoyed at being made to stand there and wait so long while the pathetic cripple huffed and puffed and took eons to try the clothes on.

Thor bought him everything he tried, whether Loki really liked it or not, and he'd been too afraid to ask his new friend what the final cost of everything was. He didn't understand why Thor was so generous to him, when he'd done nothing to earn it, given nothing in return, really.

And then he'd come up with the idea of going back to his house, in a neighborhood called Encino, and Loki had worried the entire way, asking constantly if Thor was sure it was okay, if he was sure his parent's wouldn't be upset, and Thor had continually tried to reassure him, telling him his parents would still be at work, that it was fine. Loki hadn't been convinced. He'd felt like he was going to puke the entire time.

And then when they'd finally pulled up to the house, Loki swears, he'd blacked out for a minute.

It was huge. The biggest house he'd ever seen. 

He couldn't believe people lived like this... couldn't believe all that room for three people...

And then Thor had said “Oh, looks like Mom's home after all.”, and Loki had spotted the Mercedes in the driveway.

He'd come up then with every excuse in the book to not go in then. Had been absolutely terrified at the prospect of meeting Thor's mother, and he hadn't even known why. Just that... they were so rich, so obviously rich and he was... he looked like...

But Thor, again, had insisted, assuring him again and again that it was alright, that his Mom wouldn't care, and Loki had wanted to scream at him, to tell him everything he'd promised up to that point had turned out to be a lie. But again, he'd remembered the other boy's generosity, and fear had kept him from protesting further.

Now, sitting here in his cheap clothes, and cheap, beat up wheelchair, sitting across from the most elegant lady he'd ever seen in his life... Loki thinks he would like nothing better than to simply sink into his seat and disappear forever.

Thor's mother... Frigga... she's so beautiful. So incredibly beautiful, and... and well-spoken. Her voice is like a bell, her words so perfectly enunciated, and with each passing minute of conversation, he feels less and less refined. Feels dumber and dumber. She must think he's pathetic. Must wonder what her amazing, perfect son is doing hanging out with the likes of him.

If she does think any of those things, though, she hides is beyond well. He can't see anything but warmth and kindness in her eyes when she gazes at him.

“So,” she says, her eyes fixed on him. “you were born in a town called Vogar, in Iceland?”

He nods weakly, embarrassed.

“That's a fishing village, isn't it? Along the coast?”

Again, he nods, both impressed and mortified at her knowledge. It must seem even more pitiful to her. A fishing village. 

“What was that like?” She asks.

He doesn't know, and he nearly says so.

His father never let him out of their home for him to find out.

Instead, he shrugs, looking away, fidgeting with the material of his pants.

“Ss-small.” He squeaks out. “Th-there's only about a th-thousand and so people in the w-whole town.”

“Jeeze, really!?” Thor exclaims, clearly shocked. “Only a thousand!?”

“There are lots of small towns all throughout the world Thor.” Frigga reminds him lightly, her tone vaguely reprimanding. “Not every place is like here.”

“I know!” Thor defends himself. “It's just... man, that must have been a crazy adjustment for you though?” He looks at Loki questioningly.

Again, Loki shrugs, feeling his face burn slightly.

“Well w-we... we moved to London when I was five so... there were more people there.”

“And when did you come over to the states?” Frigga goes on, and Loki wishes she would stop asking so many questions. 

It's odd, he thinks, the way she both makes him feel so uncomfortable and so much like he could tell her everything about himself and it would be okay.

“J-just about about a year ago.” He tells her.

“Did you come with your family?” She asks, and Loki can feel his shoulders hunch up defensively, his face turning away.

He shakes his head.

“No...” he answers quietly. 

And he wishes he could stop it. Wishes he could stop the memories from rushing back in...

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

It's everything Loki can do to keep from shaking uncontrollably as he reaches for the knob to their front door.

His breathe is harsh and heavy in his ears, his palms thick with sweat, his mouth dry.

He keeps looking back over his shoulder, out into the tiny, darkened apartment, eyes straining for any movement, ears listening for any sound.

If he's caught... if either his father or his brother's catch him... he'd dead. They'll kill him for sure.

He tries to steel himself then by remembering that, if he doesn't make it out tonight, like he's been planning for nearly four years now... if he doesn't, he's going to die anyway.

Father will kill him. Maybe even Bylistr and Helblindi, who more and more each year become so like Laufey. 

And the beatings have been getting worse... so much worse... 

This last, he'd been so sure... so sure he would die, so sure he wouldn't wake to see another day.

His shock had been such when he had, he'd begun sobbing like a small child...

He'd saved enough now, he thinks desperately. It's going to have to be enough. He's going to have to make it work. 

Secreting away fallen money from his father's and brother's pockets over the years, hiding it away beneath the floorboards, he's managed to gather just over nine hundred pounds. 

It should be just enough for a bus ride to the airport, and than a single, no-return flight ticket. 

God, he hopes.

All he's got is a single backpack with three changes of clothes, a few bags of chips, a couple books... He's managed to glean the bus schedule in the neighborhood by sneaking onto his brother's computer when everyone's been out. There's a stop about three blocks away from where they live, and a bus heading towards the airport scheduled to arrive there in about 45 minutes. If he pushes himself, he can make it.

He has no idea what he's going to do once he arrives in America. Has no idea where he's going to go. All he knows is he's got to get as far away from his father and brother's as he can. Staying in England, or even Europe isn't an option. They'd find him for sure. 

Sucking in a deep breath, checking one last time to make sure no one's awake, Loki at last turns back towards the door and, carefully as he's able, turns the knob, making certain he's quiet as he pulls it open.

He freezes in paralyzed fear when the hinges creak, the sound seeming deafening in his ears as he clamps his lids shut, holding still, his breath trapped in his throat.

He waits... and waits... and nothing happens.

He almost chokes on his relief, his shoulder slumping, giving himself a moment to recover.

But only a moment. That's all he has.

“Alright Loki,” he thinks then, staring out into the hallway of their complex. The first, real good look he's ever gotten of it. “it's now or never.”

He takes a deep breath, and for the first time in his 16 years of life, he moves out into the world...


	12. Chapter 12

Frigga pauses, a shot of alarm rushing through her as she brings her eyes up to Thor's new friend, her voice dying in her throat as she sees him trembling minutely, his eyes wide and distant, almost unseeing.

The boy's long, thin fingers twitch spastically around the half eaten cookie in his hand, his chest rising and falling in a too rapid rhythm.

"Honey," Frigga starts, voice edged with fear. It draws Thor's attention from her to Loki, his own eyes going wide as he, too, notices what's happening. "Honey, are you alright!?" She reaches out, laying her hand against the boys knee.

He's shaking, almost shivering, and for several, long seconds, he doesn't even seem to realize she's touching him.

"Loki," Thor finally starts, dropping his hand down along the smaller boys shoulder, and that seems to snap him from whatever it was that had just happened.

He blinks, swallowing convulsively several times, before looking up, first staring in confusion at Frigga, then turning and looking at Thor.

He notices then their hands on him, and he breathes out, his breathe shaking.

"I... I-I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he starts, almost frantically. "I... I have to... will you e-exc-cuse me a moment, I have to use the loo... I mean b-bathroom."

Frigga leans back, fearful uncertainty gripping her hard.

She can see the boy is distressed, but how or why, she has no clue, and she's worried about making it worse, whatever it is, by trying to intervene.

In the last half hour or so of conversation with Thor's new friend, Frigga has found herself absolutely falling in love.

He's so genuinely sweet, this boy. Quiet and shy and gentle, but so immensely intelligent. Already in the short time she's known him, Loki has displayed such a vast and deep knowledge of so many different things, Frigga still finds herself unable to fully accept that he isn't in school.

And yet, despite the breadth of his knowledge, despite how obviously, phenomenally well read he is, there is something decidedly uneducated about him, and, Frigga had begun to suspect, that not only was Loki not in college, but that perhaps his education in general had been extremely limited beyond his own, self-taught experience.

Something in the way he spoke, his tendency to slip into rough slang before consciously forcing himself back into a more refined speech, and his at times painfully apparent uncertainty. Frigga could see him struggling to keep conversation with her, not because he wasn't smart enough to keep up with what she was saying, he was more than enough, but because he wasn't sure of himself, wasn't sure of his knowledge, wasn't sure if what he was saying was correct.

It seemed to Frigga that, from all those things, and his obviously poor dress and naked astonishment at their home, Loki came from an underprivileged background of some sort, and that his uncertainty in his knowledge spoke to the fact that, likely, he had taught all of what he knew to himself. No one had ever taught him, no one had ever shown him. Frigga could only guess from that then that he'd had very little, if any, formal education at all.

While Loki seemed increasingly nervous and frantic over the truth about him being exposed, fudging on his answers to her questions, Frigga found herself only growing the more impressed by him.

That he could display such keen and perceptive understanding of so many things, that he could present her with new ideas and new theories that she herself had never thought to consider about those things, for him to possess that gift without anyone, apparently, ever having helped him cultivate it, left her astonished.

Yet it was obvious too that the boy was troubled, in some manner. His level of trepidation and uncertainty seemed more than what would be normal for any sort of disparegy in class.

Frigga had seen it enough in many of her patients. Most particularly the children she treated who had come from abusive or neglectful backgrounds.

A certain sort of fear which was always present. Fear of pain, of rejection, of hate...

It hurt her heart to think that such a kind and gentle boy as Loki might have come from such a place, but the more she spoke with him, the more certain she was that he had.

The way he's acting now, she's almost entirely positive.

She tries to think back over their conversation the last, few minutes, to determine what might have triggered what she's now recognizing as a panic attack, and she realizes then it was likely her questions about his coming to America alone, about his family.

If she hadn't been sure before, she is now.

The boy is looking back at her desperately, his eyes too bright, and she knows he's probably about to cry.

She doesn't want to embarrass him.

"Sure." She says smoothly, being careful to sound calm, unsuspicious. "There's a bathroom just around the corner there, the first door on your left."

Loki stammers out a hasty thank you before he's turning his chair round and wheeling himself away.

Thor starts to stand, as if he wants to go after him, wants to help, and Frigga motions quickly at him to sit back down.

Her son looks vaguely confused as, slowly, he does as she tells him and sinks back to the couch, worried.

"Mom?" He starts, not understanding, and she shakes her head.

She doesn't say anything until she hears the bathroom door click shut, and she breathes out, bringing her gaze back to Thor.

"He needs a moment dear." She tells him, seeing the beginnings of distress in her son's handsome features. Thor, bless him, is always so well intentioned, but often times blind to the emotions of others, and to what's best for any given situation. He isn't at all stupid, just so eager to do what's right, that he acts on his first instinct of what he thinks is, rather than hesitate with thinking it through.

"... Is it something that I said?" Thor asks after a long, few seconds, his voice laced in concern. "I didn't mean to upset him. God, I keep screwing up!"

Frigga shakes her head.

"No." She reassures quickly. "It was rather something I said, I'm afraid. I was asking too many personal questions, and I think it just became too much for the dear."

Thor swallows thickly, glancing back towards the bathroom before bringing his gaze back to her.

"So... w-what do you think of him?" He asks her, his voice lowered to almost a whisper.

Frigga smiles genuinely now.

"He's an absolute doll Thor. Truly. Just so polite and sweet."

The relief which floods across her son's face is almost comical.

"You like him." He says, and Frigga laughs lightly, nodding.

"Very much. He's incredibly intelligent."

"I know!" Thor exclaims excitedly. "He's so smart! He knows so much, right?"

Again, Frigga nods, smiling broadly at Thor's enthusiasm.

"He's extremely well read. It was hard for me to believe he isn't in school."

Thor goes on nodding in agreement. Almost like a kid on Christmas morning.

"I'm proud of you Thor." She goes on. "It's good of you to befriend Loki. I think he probably really needed somebody to."

And quickly as it came, the happiness in Thor's countanance disipates, replaced quickly by a somber expression.

"Yeah, I think... he... he doesn't have many friends. There... there's this girl he works with up at the library, named Darcy. She's really nice, and she's his friend but... other than that he d-doesn't really have anyone, I don't think."

Frigga nods in understanding. She hadn't expected so, just from talking to the boy. For all his intelligence, he was incredibly socially awkward, and especially among other kids his age, it would be painfully difficult for someone like him to fit in in any capacity.

"I think... I think he probably comes from a trouble background Mom." Thor continues, his eyes flitting away. "The w-way he acts sometimes, it... it's a lot like the kids you treat who've come from abusive households."

There's her bright boy, Frigga thinks, even as her heart stutters.

"I think so too." She says quietly, sadly. "Though obviously we shouldn't make assumptions."

Thor nods at that.

"Still, I am glad that you've befriended him honey. If he does come from a dark place, then maybe you can help him. And if he needs more professional help, I would be happy to offer what I can."

Thor's face brightens at that, looking at her hopefully.

"Really?" He asks. "Th-the only thing is, I don't... don't think he could probably afford you. He doesn't have much m-money. But I'd be willing to let you take the money out of my p-personal allowance if..."

Frigga cuts Thor off by raising a hand, shaking her head.

"Don't be silly Thor." She tells him. "I'd help Loki for free. Obviously."

"Oh Mom," he sighs in relief, face breaking into a grin. "thank you."

/

Loki feels like he's walked into some sort of surreal dream as Thor rolls him through his... well, it's really a mansion, if Loki is being honest about it, showing him all the different rooms.

Thor's own bedroom had been nearly as large as Loki's entire apartment, and Loki knows he must have been gaping like an idiot, just staring with his mouth hung open.

He's never seen anything like it. The place reminds him more of one of those fancy, luxury resorts you'd find somewhere like Mexico or Las Vegas than somebody's house.

Just being here makes him feel like he must be staining the place with his dirty presence. He hasn't ever felt the weight of his own low class more keenly than he does now, he thinks.

But Thor is so enthusiastic, so excited to be showing him around, and Loki doesn't want to seem ungrateful. The older boy has already done so much for him. More than he deserves...

"This is the pool room." Thor is saying, pushing open a pair of double doors, revealing a large, circular room with what looks like a nine foot billiards table at its center.

"I don't play much. It's mostly Dad and his business friends when he invites them over. I'm not very good." Thor's going on, moving over to the table and removing the cover.

Loki stares at it, bemused and in awe.

It's a beautiful piece. A Brunswick, with an intricately carved frame and legs, made out of what looks like cherry wood, and a deep red felt cloth. The whole thing is immaculately clean, and Loki can guess that Thor's father probably takes care to maintain it.

"You ever played?" Thor asks, plucking some of the balls up out of the pockets and putting them down on the table.

Loki shakes his head, wheeling himself closer.

"No." He says. "B-but I like billiards. I used to... used to watch clips of professionals o... on youtube."

Thor smiles at him.

"Cool." He says. "You wanna try hitting a few balls around?"

Loki hesitates.

He just barely clears the edge of the table as he is, his head and shoulders above the surface, but that's it. And he doesn't... really know how to even hold the stick.

Still, he thinks, it might be fun to try.

Thor seems to see his reluctance, and pushes on.

"Don't worry if you're not any good. I can't play at all, and we won't be doing real games anyhow. Just smacking the balls around."

Loki swallows.

"Your Father won't mind?" He asks, worried.

Thor shakes his head.

"Naw. He won't care, just as long as we don't tear the felt." He laughs.

That doesn't really reassure Loki very much, but if Thor thinks it's alright...

"O... okay." He finally answers.

"Great!" The older boy exclaims happily. "Here, I'll rack em' and break em'."

Loki watches intently as Thor goes about it.

He can't help flinching at the loud smack of the cue ball hitting the others, breaking them apart wide across the table.

Thor doesn't seem to notice as he hands Loki a stick.

"You wanna go first?" He asks, and Loki feels his mouth go dry.

"N-no, that's... th-that's alright. You can go."

Thor shrugs.

"Okay."

For the next hour or so, they hit the balls around in friendly competition. Loki is awful, missing his shots probably nine times out of ten. And while Thor isn't that great either, he's clearly a lot better than that.

He doesn't seem to mind at all though, even helping Loki with holding the stick properly, showing him the different bridges you can use.

Loki feels a little ridiculous at first, but after a while, he forgets his nerves and apprehension, and soon he and Thor are having genuine fun. By the end of it, Loki likes to think he's maybe even improved a little. Thor tells him so.

"I bet you'd be really good if you just got to practice a little." He says as he pulls the cover back onto the table.

Loki feels his cheeks flush slightly in embarrassment, looking away and shrugging.

"... I don't know." He says softly.

"I mean it." Thor goes on. "You were making a lot more shots even by the end. I think you've got talent."

Talent?

Loki was pretty sure he didn't have any real talent at anything, but he still felt a warm stirring at Thor's words. They were kind. Thor was kind.

At moments, Loki could scarce believe the older boy had taken an actual, genuine interest in him at all.

And Thor's mother was just as amazing.

God, Loki had never met anyone like her.

She was so elegant, and so beautiful. So incredibly nice and smart and... and...

Loki wonders if all mother's are supposed to be like that.

He'd never met his own.

His father had told him she'd died while giving birth to him, and Loki always supposed that was the reason Laufey hated him so much. Though his father had never said, one way or the other.

He'd seen pictures of his mother, and Loki had always thought she was beautiful too.

There were days... long, hard days, days when Father or his brothers had been particularly rough with him, Loki would sit and cry to himself and wish with an almost suffocating desperation that his mother was still alive, imagining that, if she were, she would have taken him away from everything. Would have taken him and run, and they would have been so happy together.

Loki thinks, if she had been anything like Thor's mom, they would have been so incredibly happy.

"Your home is really beautiful Thor." Loki says, unsure of how else to respond to the compliments. "Really. I... I want to thank you for inviting me over. And your mom is such a b-beautiful lady."

"Thanks Loki." Thor continues smiling at him, easy and charming. "And look, it was my honor to have you over. I'm glad you're having a good time."

Loki smiles tightly. He still feels so overwhelmed... so out of place.

Nice as Thor is, as welcoming and sincere, Loki can't help feeling he doesn't belong here. That he never will, no matter how much his new friend insists upon it.

There'd been pictures of Thor's family lining the walls of their home, upon mantel pieces and side tables.

Loki had stared at them as they'd passed, gazing in wonder and low stirring jealousy. There were so many pictures of them together, standing with their arms around each other, smiling brightly at the camera.

They were all incredibly beautiful. Thor looked so much like his father, a big, barrel chested man with a full, thick beard and an eye patch. But despite that, he was handsome like Thor, though stern looking, intimidating, even in his photograph. And then there was of course Thor's mother, so incredibly beautiful.

And then there had been another boy. Younger than Thor, it seemed, though nearly at a height with him, easily as handsome, though perhaps less rugged, more pretty, with such a fresh, youthful face, sandy blonde hair, and like all the men in this family, it seemed, powerfully built and strong.

Asking Thor about him, he'd been told that it was his younger brother, Baldr. Fifteen years old, currently attending high school. He was spending the weekend with some friends, Thor had said, and Loki, to his own shame, had felt relief. He didn't even know why, exactly. Just... Baldr reminded him too much of his own brother's, broad shouldered and thick, and something in his face... he looked like the kind of guy who would get his kicks out of harassing someone like Loki.

Loki knew that was unfair. He hadn't even met the kid, and both Thor and his mother were so nice. Just... he couldn't help it.

Looking down at his lap, he fidgets with the material of his pants nervously.

"... I should probably get back h-home now." He mutters quietly.

He doesn't really want to. He's enjoyed spending time with Thor, even when the older boy became, at times, a little pushy. But he had to see to Michael, and he needed to do some cleaning, and go through some of his bills which he knew he was falling behind on.

"Oh..." and he can hear the disappointment in Thor's voice.

"I'm sorry." Loki says quickly, guilt eating at his insides. "I wish I could stay longer, it's just..."

That's as far as he gets before he hears a loud, commanding voice call out from somewhere down the hall, and Loki feels himself freeze.

"Hello!?" The voice calls. "Frigga, I'm home."

Loki's eyes snap to Thor, who looks, terrifyingly, worried.

"Dad's home." He breathes out, almost dazedly.

Loki blinks, swallowing thickly, his heart beginning to beat hard against his ribs, thinking of the man in the pictures... of his stern, hard look.

And he can't help the fear he suddenly feels.

Can't help the feel of almost overwhelming dread.


	13. Chapter 13

Thor's father, Loki thinks, as the man looks down at him, nearly big as Thor himself, is absolutely terrifying.

It isn't lost on Loki, how alike to his own father the man is. That stern, humorless expression. There's a hardness there, a scrutinizing, powerful, penetrating gaze in his single, blue eye which reminds Loki so much of Laufey that, for a moment, he feels dizzy with fear, sick with it.

It's as if the giant of a man can see straight through him, and like his own father, has found him deeply wanting.

It's a struggle for Loki not to look away, a struggle to keep his voice from trembling pitifully as Odin addresses him cooly.

"So, my wife here tells me you work at the University library, is that right Loki?" He asks.

Loki nods, avoiding Odin's eye, looking down at his lap. He feels small and stupid and useless.

"Well, speak up boy." Thor's father presses, and abruptly, Loki feels his heart kick too fast, his stomach flipping unpleasantly.

"Odin, please." Thor's mom says gently, and Loki feels overwhelmingly grateful for her being there, and Thor too.

He'd been terrified when Thor had asked him to come out and meet his father, stuttering and stammering all over himself in an attempt to make an excuse for why he couldn't. And he knew it was irrational. Loki didn't know the man, had no reason to be so afraid of him. It was purely from his picture that he had developed such a sense of unease.

Big, older men. Loki had never... never felt comfortable around them.

Thor was different. He was so nice...

Despite knowing he could easily break him in two, Loki just somehow knew also Thor would never, intentionally hurt him.

But his father... his father looked mean. Sounded mean... just like Laufey... just like...

"I'm just curious about the boy." Odin goes on. "You aren't a student?"

"N-nno Sir." Loki answers softly, his eyes still cast down.

"I told Mom already," Thor interjects then. "but that's where I met Loki. He had to tell me and my friends to shut up cause we were making too much noise." He laughs, but if his father finds it amusing, he gives no indication.

Loki feels his cheeks heat slightly. He wishes Thor wouldn't go blabbing about that to everyone. It was just his job...

"Ah," Odin goes on. "well, that's good to hear. Those boys need some sense knocked into their heads every now and again."

Loki says nothing to that, not sure how to respond.

It doesn't seem to bother Thor's dad.

"So, you're from Iceland? A very beautiful country. I've been several times." Odin goes on, and Loki swallows thickly, giving a vague nod in acknowledgment.

"I hope you're here legally." Odin suddenly says, and Loki feels all the color drain from his face, his heart hammering painfully against his chest as he looks up, wide eyed with fear.

He couldn't know. He couldn't possibly! How would... how...

"Odin, stop it." Frigga again chastises him, smacking him on the shoulder as the older man begins to laugh.

"I was only teasing the boy." He defends. "He's wound tighter than a bow string. I thought I could loosen him up a bit."

Loki looks away, feeling suddenly sick, his head spinning.

Oh God, he thinks desperately, if he's found out... if... he'll be sent back. He'll be sent back to London, to... to...

"Come on Dad," Thor's voice jars him from his thoughts. "of course he's here legally. You shouldn't even joke about stuff like that."

There's some sort of exchange following, but Loki doesn't hear it, his head filled suddenly with dizzying terror, a familiar pain beginning to pound at his temples, lights flashing in front of his eyes.

"... I... I'm s-sorry..." he starts, but everyone just keeps talking, not hearing him. "I'm sorry, I nn-need... I need to..."

He's getting another migraine, he realizes, nausea turning his stomach as he remembers that he's left his medication at home again.

He tries telling them, but they can't hear him. His voice must be coming out slurred and too soft, the rapidly building pain making it impossible for him to focus on his words.

"Both of you, be quiet right now." Frigga's voice suddenly cuts through the din of Thor's and Odin's, and all at once she's there, crouching down in front of Loki, looking closely into his face. "Honey, what's wrong?" She asks, taking hold of his hands and squeezing them gently. "What's going on?"

Loki blinks at her, trying to focus on her face. It's hard, with the floaters slipping over his vision, the pain mounting, making him sick.

His mouth feels dry, and he has to swallow several time.

"Mmm... mig-graine. I... I'm getting a m-migraine." He manages, though he isn't sure if he's made himself clear, Thor's mother looking at him with deep concern.

Somehow, having her there, he doesn't feel as frightened. She's holding onto him, and he thinks she won't abandon him. She won't let him suffer through it like his father, like... like Laufey used to make him...

"Darling, did you say you're having a migraine?" She asks, and he nods weakly, his eyes stinging with tears.

"A migraine!?" He hears Thor start, voice alarmed, but if his mother hears him, she doesn't answer.

"Okay. You're okay." She tells Loki instead. "Do you have any medication for it?"

Again, Loki has to swallow thickly, trying to wet his increasingly dry mouth.

"I lll-lef... left it hh-home..." he slurs again, and he can't stop the tears which spring to his eyes and slip down his cheeks.

"That's okay." Frigga goes on, continuing to look him in the face. Her hands on his are warm and soft, her thumbs rubbing gentle circles against his palms. "Do you know the name of what you usually take?"

"Rr-Re... Relpax." He stammers out.

"Alright." She says. "Thor, honey, go get my prescription pad. It's in my office, in the right-hand drawer of my desk. The key should be sitting on top."

Loki isn't certain when it is Thor goes, and when he comes back, but it seems to take too long as he closes his eyes, feeling sicker by the moment.

He starts when he hears Thor's deep voice close by.

"Here." He says, and he opens his lids to see his friend handing a thick pad of paper to his mother, along with a pen.

Frigga thanks him briefly before scribbling something down onto it, then tearing it free and handing it to her husband.

"Odin, go to the pharmacy in town and pick this up. Do it quickly please." She tells him, and surprisingly, Loki thinks, Thor's father doesn't ask any questions or protest, simply taking the paper and heading out.

"Loki, sweetheart," Frigga starts talking to him again. "I'm going to take you into a dark room and get an icepack for your head. Okay? My husband shouldn't be gone more than fifteen or twenty minutes. Are you going to be alright until then?"

No, Loki thinks desperately, but only nods his head instead.

He feels sick, and he's sure he's going to throw up. Oh God, he doesn't... he doesn't want to. He's already embarrassed himself enough.

Only he can't help it on the way to wherever Thor's mom is taking him a few moments later, the nausea churning his stomach becoming suddenly too much, and he barely has time to lean over before he's puking all over himself and the floor.

He's mortified, humiliation burning at his cheeks even as the pain comes raging back from the momentary relief.

"I'm sorry. I... I'm s-sorry." He says. Oh God, he's... he's ruined their beautiful floor. Both Thor and his mom must think he's so disgusting. They must think...

"It's alright sweetheart." Frigga says. "Oh, you poor thing. Thor, can you go fetch a fresh shirt and pants, and get me a wet clothe please?"

"Yeah, y-yeah, right away." Thor says, sounding nervous and unsure.

"I'm sorry." Loki says again, covering his face with his hands. Oh, he's so embarrassed. "I'm s-so sorry."

"It's okay sweetheart." Frigga tells him again, wheeling him back out of the puddle of his own vomit, continuing on towards the room as if nothing had happened at all.

Loki doesn't understand. He doesn't understand how she isn't angry. Why she isn't yelling or... or...

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"You stupid little shit!" Laufey roars, and Loki falls back, terrified, heart beating faster as the pounding in his head grows worse. "You fuckin' threw up all over the place!"

"I'm s-sorry! I'm sorry!" He sobs, throwing his hands up in a pitiful attempt to protect himself, knowing already what's coming.

It's useless though, as his father bats his arms away like they're nothing, and a moment later, he's backhanding Loki so hard across the mouth he twists near full round, crashing to his face against the floorboards, the taste of blood filling his mouth, mixed with bile.

He knows better than to try and get up.

Not until his father tells him to. Not until... until...

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Loki, honey, here..." Frigga's voice tears him from the memory, and he flinches back at the feeling of a warm, wet cloth dabbing at his face.

"It's alright." She tells him again, wiping around the corners of his mouth. "My husband will be back soon with your medication. Here darling, hold this to your head. Are you holding up okay?"

She hands him an ice pack, and he sees Thor standing behind her, biting his nails anxiously, looking back at him with worry.

"... I feel sick." He slurs, his hands shaking as he holds the ice pack, and he feels ashamed of his own weakness.

"I know baby. Do you think you're going to throw up again?"

"I d-don't know." Loki answers, the pain in his head growing unbearable.

He's grateful suddenly for the dark room they're in, the shades drawn, the only light coming through the sun peaking through the blinds cracks.

"Alright." Frigga tells him. "It's alright if you do."

It's not, Loki thinks desperately, his mouth filling with saliva.

Thor's mom must see he's about to be ill again, because he vaguely hears her call to her son, asking him to bring something over.

A moment later and she's holding a plastic container over his lap, her hand on his back, moving in firm, soothing circles.

"It's okay," she says, and then he's puking again, into the container, his eyes squeezing shut as his frame stiffens and then lets go.

Hot tears prick at the corners of his eyes, escaping past his lids and slipping, warm down his face.

Twice more, he throws up and then wretches, before the spell passes, and he slumps in his chair, shaking badly.

Thor's mom has her arm over his back, talking to him softly.

"Good. That's good sweetie. Just hold on a little while longer."

"Dad just texted." Thor says somewhere in front of him, voice strained. "He's on his way back."

"You hear that Loki?" Frigga says. "It's going to be okay."

/

It takes longer than usual, and for several, agonizing minutes, Loki is fearful the medication won't work at all. That he'll be stuck with this pain for hours, maybe even days, like he used to be before he got here to the States and found a doctor to prescribe him with medication.

And so the relief is near overwhelming when, at last, he feels the migraine begin to recede, leaving only a vague, dazed feeling in its wake.

It's only when he begins to recover from the pain does he realize what a mess he's made of himself. His shirt is soaked through with sweat under the pits of his arms, down his back and chest, his hair also damp with it. And his pants are still soiled with his vomit.

Oh, he's disgusting, he thinks, embarrassment once more heating his face.

"Here honey." Thor's mom again, handing him a cold glass of water, and Loki takes it gratefully, muttering out a thank you.

He chugs the whole thing in one go, trying to both wash the sickening taste of bile from his mouth and slack his thirst.

"Feeling better?" Frigga asks once he's finished, and Loki nods weakly.

"Y-yes. Thank you." He manages.

She nods in return, her own expression relieved.

"Good." She says. "Listen, Thor's brought a fresh shirt and a pair of pants for you to change whenever you're ready. I'll throw your things in the wash. The clothes are his so they'll probably be a bit big on you. I hope that's okay? It'll just be for a little while you have to wear them."

Loki blinks up at her, feeling again embarrassed.

"I'm sorry." He starts. "I didn't mean... I mean... I'm sorry I..."

"Please," She cuts him off, shaking her head and smiling at him. "you have nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong Loki."

"I... I'll pay you back f-for the Relpax. I j-just have to wait 'till I g-get paid at the end of the m-month..." he tries again, and again, she shakes her head.

"No. You don't need to do that darling. It's okay." She says.

"But..." he starts.

"It's okay." She says again, and Loki falls silent, feeling foolish.

Of course she wouldn't care about the money. Thor's family is obviously rich. The measly amount his medication costs would seem like nothing to them, though it ate a sizable chunk out of his own paycheck every month.

Suddenly he's grateful that Thor has stepped out of the room, along with his father. He doesn't want them to see how clueless he is about... all of this.

"Can I ask you a question?" He's pulled from his thoughts by Frigga's voice, and he looks back up at her.

"S-sure." He answers after a brief hesitation, his heart again beginning to pound uncomfortably in his chest.

Oh God, he hopes it isn't about...

"How often do you get migraines?" She says and he feels himself slump.

"O-oh, uh... t-two... maybe three times a month. It's n-not... not very often."

She nods, looking at him carefully.

"And you've seen a doctor about them, obviously." She goes on, and he nods in return.

He has the feeling she wants to ask him something more as she continues to peer at him, regarding him closely, and Loki has the desire to look away, fearful of what she might be seeing, before she straightens to her full height.

"Okay." She starts. "I'm going to step out and let you get dressed. The clothes are right here." She pats a pile of clothing, left along a work desk, and Loki realizes this must be her office. "Just let me know when you're finished and I'll come collect your things and put them in the wash."

"O-okay." Loki answers, looking at his hands in his lap.

"Once they're clean, if you want, Thor will drive you back to your home. Or you're welcome to spend the night here too." She offers suddenly, and Loki looks up at her, startled.

She only smiles at him.

"We have several spare rooms. So it wouldn't at all be an imposition." She says.

Before he can say anything, she tells him to take his time changing, and then she's leaving the room, closing the door softly behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

Frigga moves distractedly into the living room, where her son and husband are waiting, her thoughts caught up in everything that's happened in the last, few hours. Caught up and wondering... worrying, about Thor's new friend.

She doesn't even notice at first Odin and Thor looking at her, waiting expectantly.

"Well?" Her husbands voice finally pulls her from her thoughts, and she looks up at him, seeing him staring back. "How is the boy?" He goes on.

To anyone else, the question might have come out sounding cold, even detached. That was just the way her husband conducted himself. He was a big business contractor. A damn fine one, and it was his job to present facts and make offers and propositions while remaining neutral.

But to her familiar and practiced ears, she could hear the deep concern, even guilt, under the tone. Odin was worried, and, she knew, felt awful about what had happened.

"He's doing better." She tells him and Thor both.

"The medicine worked?" Thor asks, relief in his voice.

"Yes." She answers again. "He's shaken up, but the pain is gone." She can't help her own relief from breaking through.

She'd held it together, having dealt aplenty with young people suffering migraines, but she'd been scared also. Loki was obviously delicate. Not simply because he was paraplegic. She could tell just to look at him that he was sickly, physically weak, even in his upper body, maybe even had a weak immune system. He was painfully thin, and it wouldn't surprise her in the least to find out he suffered frequent bouts of illness.

So it had scared her. Migraines could prove fatal in some rare cases if not treated properly, and the boy obviously wasn't well off financially. She doubted he could afford any sort of special treatment.

It seems as if her husband is reading her own thoughts when he speaks next.

"I shouldn't have made that stupid joke." He says. "I didn't mean to scare the boy. He's obviously fragile."

"I don't think that's what triggered the migraine though dear." Frigga tells him gently. "Things like that just come on unexpectedly, usually."

"He does have a lot of medications though." Thor interjects then.

Frigga and Odin both turn to look at him, and he continues.

"I... I saw them when I was over at his apartment last night. I think you're right Dad. He has a lot of health issues."

"Mmm." Odin nods. "I noticed his shoes are those kind people wear for back and foot pain."

"Orthopedic shoes." Frigga supplies. "He probably suffers a lot of back pain, I imagine."

She pauses then, worrying at her lip as she wonders... thinking...

"Thor, how old did you say Loki is?" She asks.

"Um..." Thor blinks at her, thinking a moment. "Actually, I... never asked him. But I don't... I don't think he's more than sixteen or seventeen at the most."

"And he lives by himself?" She presses.

Thor nods, looking slightly dismayed.

"He has a cat. That's it." He says.

"If he's seventeen, we'll just guess for now, and he's been living here a year, that means he came to the US when he sixteen." Frigga goes on, almost talking to herself. "Without any family to speak of."

That's too young, she thinks. Too young for someone to be so on their own in the world. Especially someone like Loki, who's already dealing with so many disadvantages.

She looks back to her son.

"Has he mentioned any family to you?" She asks. "He told you he came here by himself?"

Thor nods.

"He said he came here by himself, yeah, but..." he hesitates for a moment, biting his lip and looking vaguely guilty.

Frigga doesn't push him, waiting for him to go on.

"I asked him at one point if he had any brother's or sisters and he... well he..." again he hesitates, and now both Frigga and Odin are looking at him intently.

Frigga feels her stomach clench as Thor continues for several seconds to waver.

"Well out with it." Odin finally starts, losing patience.

"He got upset. I mean... th-this was when we first really met, and I just sort of, uh, casually asked him... and he told me I should go. And then we didn't talk to each other for about a week. Well, really until we ran into each other last night. So..." Thor trails off then, looking confused and worried.

"That's odd." Odin says absently after a moment.

Frigga shakes her head, her heart heavy.

"He shouldn't be on his own." She starts suddenly, hardly thinking of what it is she's saying. "Not like that. Not as he is."

"I was thinking the same thing." Thor adds quickly, and Frigga hears the blatant hope in his voice. "He... he needs help." He goes on eagerly. "I think, I mean... I was wondering if, maybe, we could..."

"Thor," Odin starts, laughing gently. "you've grown agenda driven of late."

For a moment, Thor's cheeks color slightly and he looks embarrassed.

"... Well I was just thinking..." he starts, looking down at his feet.

"No, he's right." Frigga cuts in, again thinking. "We should do something to help him."

Again, Odin laughs, seeming amazed.

"But we don't even know the boy." He argues half-heartedly.

"Thor knows him." She argues right back. "And I've spent a whole afternoon and the early part of this evening around him, and I consider myself a pretty good judge of character. He's a good boy."

Odin throws his hands up, shaking his head.

"I'm not saying he isn't a good kid." He starts. "I'm just a little confused as to what the two of you are scheming about."

"We could adopt him." Thor blurts suddenly, and both Frigga and Odin turn to look at him with astonished expressions.

"... You're joking." Odin goes on after a long moment of awkward silence.

Thor shakes his head.

"N-no." He says, sounding as serious as Frigga has ever heard him. "No. If he... if he isn't eighteen yet, and I really don't think he is, honestly, I don't think he's even seventeen yet, he looks younger than Baldr, then that makes him legally s-still a minor, and we could adopt him."

"Thor, this is insane." Odin starts, and Frigga shakes her head.

"Well, I don't know..." she begins, and her husband turns towards her, single eye wide.

"Have you both lost your minds?" He says after a moment, disbelieving. "You both want to adopt him now? He's practically an adult!"

"Thor is right, dear." Frigga replies. "The boy needs help. He's obviously in a bad way, financially and otherwise. And we've been talking about needing to give back more. You know we have more than any of us will ever need."

"Of course." Odin says. "But when I said we should start donating more to charity, I didn't mean... this. Do you even know his last name?" He looks at Thor.

"Well... no." Thor says after a brief hesitation, seeming to realize it. "But..."

"Adopting someone isn't a decision you simply make on the fly." Odin goes on, talking over him. "There's all kinds of legalities and paper work and..."

He trails off, seeing Frigga and their son staring back at him, she knows, with almost pleading expressions.

He sighs, looking away and shaking his head.

"You two are going to be the death of me, you know that?"

"... Does that mean you'll consider it?" Thor asks, and he sounds like some little kid getting his Christmas wish. Frigga can't help but smile.

Again, Odin shakes his head, his hands on his hips.

"You're mother and I will discuss it." He finally says after a long, few seconds.

Thor opens his mouth, his face breaking into a thousand watt grin. Frigga barely manages to keep a similar expression from her own face, and she doesn't even know why she feels so excited. Why she's even so sure about this.

Odin is right. They don't really know Loki. Don't really know anything about him, beyond a few, basic things, but...

Something about the boy just stirs so much compassion in her. Her heart breaks just looking at him, and, she thinks, he seems so lonely.

A boy like that really shouldn't be on his own, fending for himself without any real way to.

"Later." Odin cuts Thor off when it seems like he's about to say something else. "We'll discuss is later. Right now I have to get back to the office. I just came home for some lunch, which I didn't get, by the way."

He looks pointedly at Frigga, and she can only smile back.

"You have to go back to the office?" She asks after a moment. "So late?"

Her husband nods, looking irritated.

"Yeah. Just a few documents I have to go over, shore up a few details. But I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Alright." Frigga replies. "By the way, I've invited Thor's friend to spend the night if he wants to. I hope that's okay."

Odin gives her a knowing look.

"You say that as if I actually have a say in the matter." He replies, smiling.

And Frigga laughs.

"Of course." She says. "I'm nothing if not polite."

/

"This sucks." Bylistr falls back against the cushions of the couch in the rented out hotel room, crossing his arms over his broad chest and huffing loudly.

"You've said that already. About a million fucking times." Helblindi rolls his eyes to the ceiling, irritated and disgusted in equal measure as he tries focusing once more on the television.

"Well that's cause it's fucking true!" Bylistir huffs again, throwing his hands up. "We've been here, what, almost a week already, and we ain't found shit! I mean, how do we even know the little fuckers here!?"

"He's here."

They both freeze, turning towards the room's entrance, seeing their father standing there, closing the door behind him.

"Remember," Laufey goes on, sauntering into the room and taking a seat at the table he'd set up as his workspace, pictures and documents spread out all over the top. "we've traced him. He might've slipped through the cracks if he'd have realized beforehand he'd need a passport to get out of London and to the States." He chuckles, grinning at his two sons. "But as we know, Loki ain't that smart. It's our luck he had to scrounge around for almost three weeks waiting for a passport before he could get out of the country. The dumb little shit left a paper trail. So he's here. No doubt about it."

Bylistir scoffs, shaking his head.

"What I wanna know is how the fucker managed to survive out there on his own for so long. He couldn't of had that much money."

"That lady at that rat-hole hotel told us he rented a room there for about a week." Helblindi reminds him. "Remember?"

"Yeah, but that's only a week." Bylistr bites back. "That leaves two more he had to have been out on the street. The fucker's in a wheelchair. How'd he not manage to die?!"

"You could ask the same question about how he managed any of this." Helblindi answers. "Like Dad says, he ain't that smart. And he don't know jack shit about anything. He'd never even been outside the apartment, 'cept when we let him that one time we moved from Iceland."

"Well didn't I say we shoulda' kept a lock on his room?" Bylistir says. "Who knew he had the balls to sneak out when we weren't there and use the computer? That's how he figured it all out."

"None of that matters now." Laufey interjects, flipping through a set of maps on his desk. "What matters is we've figured out where he is, and we've just gotta figure out when to make our move. We can figure out how to deal with the rest of it once we've got him back."

"And he's working at that University library, right? What name'd you say he was living under now?" Helblindi asks, sitting forward in his seat.

Laufey nods, not looking up.

"Loki Smith." He answers.

Bylistr laughs.

"Dumb shit wasn't even smart enough to change his whole name. And who the fuck's gonna think his last name's Smith with a name like Loki? And with his accent?"

Helblindi shrugs, turning back to the television.

"Can't we just wait 'till he gets off work and grab him on the street?" He asks.

"Dad wants to see where he lives, remember?" Bylistir adds, and Helblindi shrugs again.

"Don't see why." He says lazily.

"Because..." Laufey starts, standing up from where he sits and walking towards them, grinning wide. "I want to show him. I want to show him how stupid he was to think he could get away. And the best way to start is by taking away everything he thinks he has."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning this chapter guys for some pretty severe child abuse in a flashback

Loki didn't think it was possible for him to feel any more humiliated than he already did, but apparently he'd been wrong.

Getting into the fresh set of clothes Thor's mother had left him to had been a difficult enough task, his thoughts still fuzzy after his migraine, his limbs feeling shaky and heavy at the same time.

It was when he'd finally managed to slip into the things that he'd felt his cheeks burn hot, his stomach flipping unpleasantly.

He knew Thor was bigger than him, but the size difference couldn't have been any more apparent than in the way the older boy's clothes hung off of him like a giant bag. The t-shirt barely caught at all on Loki's shoulders, threatening to slip down completely with even the slightest of movement, and the pants...

If Loki wasn't sitting down, they would have fallen straight to the floor. As it was, the waistband circled round him so loosely, he could have slipped his whole hand between with two or three inches to spare. And they were a little too long in the leg, the hems catching on the heels of his feet, to the point he'd had to roll them up to his ankle to keep it from happening.

He didn't need a mirror to know he probably looked like a little kid wearing a man's clothes, and he felt so embarrassed, he thought he might suffocate on his own shame.

They're going to laugh at him, he thinks desperately as he sits there, trying to collect himself.

But no, that's illogical, and he knows it. Thor was too nice, and so was his mom. His dad... Loki wasn't so sure about him. He probably already thought he was a pathetic freak. Seeing how truly scrawny and weak he was likely wasn't going to change the man's opinion of him, one way or another.

Even that's unfair, Loki realizes. Thor's father was scary and a little blunt, but he hadn't actually said or done anything to make Loki think he was intentionally unkind.

Shaking his head, breathing in deeply a few times over, he finally works up the nerve to shove his worries aside and begins from the room, out into the hallway, carrying his still soiled clothes on his lap. They smell awful, and again, he has to push his embarrassment aside.

He can hear voices coming from what sounds like the living room, and so he starts in that direction, the voices becoming more distinct as he comes nearer.

"He can have my room if he likes." He hears Thor say, and Loki remembers suddenly Frigga's invitation to stay the night.

He pauses, looking down at his lap, a deep feeling of uncertainty taking hold of him.

He really shouldn't, he thinks. He's got to get back to Michael and feed him. Even though... he did leave a dish of dry food and a bowl of water out before he and Thor left, so, just one night alone wouldn't matter too much.

Still... he worries about Michael. He's just a kitten and...

"Well there's plenty of guest rooms though." He hears Thor's mom say. "You wouldn't have to."

"I know," Thor goes on. "But they're on the other side of the house and if he needed something..."

Loki frowns, a small spark of annoyance fluttering in his chest.

He's been living for himself for... well... it hasn't been a year, like he'd told Thor. More like six months, actually, since he came to the States. He was still sixteen, but he hadn't wanted Thor to know that, for some reason.

But he'd been living on his own that whole time. He knew how to take care of himself.

"Oh, I know!" Thor continues suddenly. "He can have Baldr's room, since he's spending the night over at his friends. He'll be right next to me then."

"That would be alright." Frigga returns.

Loki breathes through his nose, frustrated.

He doesn't want to stay in Baldr's room. He shouldn't even spend the night. He's never...

"Oh, hello." Loki's head snaps up and sees Thor's father standing there, smiling down at him.

He can't help the way he immediately tenses up, stiffening in his chair, his mouth suddenly dry.

"I hear you're doing better?" Odin goes on after a moment when Loki fails to say anything back.

Embarrassment heats his cheeks for a moment as he realizes he's just gaping, and he forces himself to nod.

"Y-yes Sir. Th-thank you." He stammers out.

God, he's such an idiot.

Odin nods, his brow furrowing as he continues looking at Loki with a too knowing gaze.

"Listen," he starts after a moment, and suddenly he's crouching down in front of Loki, so that he's eye level with him. "I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have made that stupid joke. I hope I didn't upset you too much."

And then he reaches out, taking hold of Loki's forearm, and it's everything Loki can do not to flinch back at the contact.

"My wife tells me you might be spending the night." He says. "I have to go back to my job for a little bit, but I hope you'll still be here when I get back for dinner." He smiles again, and Loki can tell to look at the expression that it's not one the man is used to wearing. "We'd be happy to have you." He finishes, before nodding and standing back up.

He strides past Loki then, presumably on his way from the house, and for several minutes, Loki just sits there, vaguely dazed by... whatever that was that just happened.

He isn't even sure at all.

/

Somehow, Thor had convinced him to stay, which was how Loki ended up as he is now, sitting at a dining table which looks like it must cost more than every flat in his apartment building combined, eating dinner with Thor's family.

The silver wear and china, too, looks astronomically expensive, and Loki finds himself having a difficult time focusing on the food, delicious though it is, fearful of breaking or scratching something.

He can't believe people live this way.

Everything is just so beautiful.

Thor and his parents, Loki also can't help but notice, have, at least it seems to him, a fantastic relationship. They all talk openly and kindly to each other, treat each other well and with respect.

Loki can't help either the small swell of jealousy he feels at it.

He wishes he had a family... a... a family like this, anyway. He wishes he had...

"Is the food alright darling?" Frigga's voice suddenly breaks him from his thoughts, and he looks up, startled.

"... I... I'm sorry?" He asks.

"The food." Thor's mother nods towards his still mostly full plate. "I noticed you haven't eaten much. Is it alright? If not, we can have something else prepared for you." She smiles at him encouragingly.

Loki realizes then, glancing round the table, that all of them have nearly finished their meal, and he swallows thickly, embarrassed.

"N-no. No." He starts, horrified at what must seem to them his ingratitude. "It's really great. Really. I j-just... I'm not used to so much, er, I mean... I don't ever eat v-very much. Sorry. It's... it's really delicious."

He cuts himself off then, glancing down, feeling like a total moron. God, listen to him, he thinks, his face heating. They must think he's so stupid.

"Well that's okay sweetie." Frigga goes on. "You aren't obligated to eat. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright."

Loki nods, feeling even stupider.

"You should try to eat some more though." Thor's father begins. "You're far too skinny."

"Daaad..." Thor moans, covering his face with his hands.

"What?" His father questions. "I'm only trying to help the boy."

"You're embarrassing him dear." Frigga points out gently.

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry." Odin puts his hands up as if in surrender. "I'm obviously showing a particular talent today for putting my foot in my mouth."

"It's alright." Loki says, pushing past his trepidation. "I... I really do like the food. I want to eat more."

And he did too. He couldn't remember if he'd ever had food this delicious before. He just... he was distracted, and he wasn't used to... having so much to eat.

"Well take your time hon. There's no rush." Frigga says, and once more, Loki feels grateful to have her there.

"So, Loki." Odin begins after a few, stretched moments of silence. "I couldn't help noticing what perfect English you speak. I'm assuming since you're from Iceland originally that English wasn't your native language. Did you learn to speak it in school, or...?"

Loki swallows down the bit of pasta he has in his mouth, a vague nervousness running through him.

He always gets this way when people start asking him questions about himself.

He's only really told Darcy anything about the life he came from before, and even that had taken several months of knowing her before he'd felt comfortable enough to do so.

Wiping at his mouth with his napkin, he looks down, nodding.

"Uh, well, I... I actually t-taught... taught myself." He confesses quietly.

He didn't know how to tell Thor or his family that he'd never been to a single day of school in his life.

He'd taught himself how to speak several different languages, just from the various magazines and books his father and brother's had left around the apartment, as well as sneaking onto the computer when they'd been gone.

He didn't know why that seemed like such a big deal. Darcy had grown almost unbearably excited when she'd found out he could speak five different languages. But... American's usually tended only to speak one, it seemed to him, so he guessed to them, it was impressive.

Thor's father seems to follow the pattern, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"Really?" He asks. "That's very impressive. You taught yourself?"

Loki nods, looking down at his plate of food, moving some of it around with his fork.

"Yes Sir." He answers again quietly. "I... I've taught myself a few different languages."

"That's incredible darling." Frigga says then. "You speak them fluently?"

"W-well, I... I speak Icelandic, English and French f-fluently, and I only speak a... a little German and Spanish." He answers, feeling vaguely embarrassed.

"Damn, really?" He hears Thor exclaim, and looking up at the other boy, he sees Thor smiling broadly at him. "That's amazing. I barely made it through my Spanish classes in high school."

Loki looks down again, shrugging.

"It's just a certain type of brain that makes languages easy for me. There's a lot of things I'm n-not good at."

"You're too modest man." Thor says. "That's crazy cool that you can speak so many languages, I think."

Loki again shrugs, his face heating.

"I agree with Thor." Odin starts. "You taught all of them to yourself? You didn't take any classes at all?"

"Y-yes Sir, I mean... no, I... I didn't take any classes." Loki stammers slightly.

"You did finish high school though, yes?" Odin presses. "It's required to take a foreign language in Europe too, isn't it?"

Loki feels his frame stiffen, a kind of dizzying fear lancing through him suddenly, his heart beating faster.

"Uh, w-well, I..." he begins, trying to stall, trying to think desperately how to get around the question.

If they find out he's never been to a single day of school, they might start to realize other things about him, and...

"Let him finish his meal sweetheart." Frigga suddenly interrupts, and Loki can't help the sudden relief he feels.

Loki tries to eat what he can, quickly as he can then, not wanting to seem rude.

Still, he's only cleared about halfway of his plate away before he feels he can't eat another bite.

/

"You sure you're gonna be alright?" Thor asks, standing by the door.

Loki manages to smile weakly at him, nodding.

"Yeah, I... I'm alright." He answers, fidgeting with the set of pajamas in his lap. "Thanks."

Thor is looking back at him, his expression not entirely convinced, and Loki wishes he would stop.

He gets that Thor is just being nice, and that his concern in genuine. He really does. But he also can't help wanting to scream at the other boy that he isn't an invalid, despite what it may look like, that he can take care of himself. That he has.

Thor clearly has a tendency to hover and be overbearing, even if his intentions always seem to be good.

Loki finds himself without the heart to say anything though.

He'd had fun tonight. Truly. More than he can remember having in... maybe his whole life, when he really thinks back on it.

After dinner, they'd all sat in the den which, to Loki's still continued astonishment, had really been more like a small cinema, and watched a movie. They'd let him pick which one. No one had ever let him do anything like that before.

The times his father and brother's had actually allowed him to... watch the television at all had been rare, and he'd been told each time to keep his mouth shut, or he'd be punished and sent back to his room.

He'd chosen an older film. A Fred Astaire movie. He'd been nervous at first that they wouldn't like it, that they'd complain about it. But no one had, and they'd even seemed to enjoy it. Thor hadn't been able to stop talking about what an incredible dancer Astaire was, asking how it was he'd never heard about him before.

That had made Loki smile. He liked sharing things he was passionate about.

He'd never... never really had anyone to do that with... before. He talked to Darcy some, but... he'd always been a little shy about it. Darcy could be so abrasive, though he knew she always meant well. It just made him somewhat nervous to talk to her about the things he liked.

So tonight had been good. Really, really good.

Just thinking about it now makes Loki smile to himself, looking down at his lap.

"You sure you don't need any help, like, getting into bed or... I just, uh, I know it's a little h-high off the ground, so..." Thor starts again, his voice trailing off when he sees the irritated look Loki gives him.

The younger boy sighs, shaking his head.

"I'm alright Thor. Truly. If I need you for anything, I'll let you know." He answers.

Thor smiles tightly at him, nodding.

"Okay. I'll... I guess I'll see you in the morning then." He says.

"See you in the morning Thor." Loki smiles back. "And, Thor..." he hesitates a moment, his cheeks heating slightly. "thanks... thanks for everything. I had a really nice time today."

And Thor's smile turns to a grin.

"Sure Loki." He says. "So did I. Have a good night."

"You too Thor." Loki answers.

And with that, Thor finally steps out, closing the door softly behind him.

/

For a long time, Loki can't sleep.

He lies there along a mattress which feels, to him, almost overwhelmingly soft, staring up at the darkened ceiling, and he wonders, not for the first time that night, how it is he got here.

Less than a year ago, he'd been living in London with his father and brothers, locked away... Essentially, he understood now, held captive. Living in a constant state of fear and agonizing uncertainty, the only surety he had knowing that, eventually, someday, his father was going to get so mad at him, his rage would become so much, that very likely, Laufey would kill him.

That was the only thing Loki had known. And it was that which had eventually given him the courage to run away. Because he hadn't wanted to die. As horrible as his life had been, he hadn't wanted to die.

And he would have, if he'd stayed there. He knows that now, more than ever.

Now, when he compares it to the life he has. The life he's built for himself. Little and insignificant though it is.

He hadn't understood what normal was. He'd thought... he'd thought everyone's life was like his. Or... he'd believed there must be one person, one child in each family that wasn't wanted. That was hated and who's family felt ashamed of. He'd thought what Laufey and his brothers did to him was okay. Was accepted. He'd had no idea until... until he'd worked up the nerve to start reading... to start educating himself, just how wrong it all had been.

Had no idea, really still, until he'd actually gotten out into the world and been faced with just how broken and abused as life he'd actually been living. When he'd started to meet and interact with other people, and they didn't all viciously attack him, or make him feel every second like less than nothing.

He'd encountered plenty of rude and even unkind people, people who, he could tell, thought less of him because he was in a wheelchair, people who just liked to pick on someone who they thought was weaker than them, or take advantage of someone they thought couldn't fight back.

But no one had been cruel to him, the way his father and brother's had.

That was when Loki had really started to realize just how warped his perception had been.

Now, when he compared it to how Thor and his family, and even Darcy treated him...

He sometimes couldn't believe he'd ever thought what Laufey and his brother's did to him was normal at all.

Though really, it had been before that, when Loki had started to know. It had been when...

That day, that day when his father... when he'd...

And suddenly Loki feels like he can't breathe, his head spinning in sickening circles as the memory comes rushing back to him, vivid as if it were then and there, and vicious, consuming fear drags him under, into the black...

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Father is drunk, Loki realizes with growing trepidation, his heart hammering painfully as he watches the giant of a man from across the room.

Laufey had called him out here from his room, and dizzyingly, Loki thinks, he wishes maybe for the first time in his life that Bylistr and Helblindi were here. His brother's hate him, he knows that. They're always mean to him, sometimes they even it him.

But they never beat him bad, the way Father does. And when they're here, usually, Laufey won't hit him so hard either. Sometimes it doesn't matter. But usually, for whatever reason, Father won't hit him so hard, when his brothers are here.

But they aren't here now. He doesn't know where they are. And his father is sitting in his usual armchair, glaring at him with glassy, mean eyes, fingering the baseball bat he holds.

Loki can't stop shaking. He knows already this is going to be bad. He knows it, and he knows there's nothing he can do to stop it.

"Y-yyes Sir?" He asks, his voice pathetically small and thin.

He's just turned twelve, and more and more he finds himself mortified by how his own voice continues to crack and break. His father and brother's find no end to their amusement at it, laughing at him constantly. And so he tries to speak softly, to control it...

"Get over here." Laufey snaps, his voice slurring badly. "Get your rotten little ass over here!"

Loki obeys quickly, knowing better than to bait his father's temper now.

The moment he's within arm's reach, Laufey shoots a hand out, grabbing rough hold of him by the collar of his flimsy t-shirt, jerking him closer.

Loki barely manages to swallow down his cry of fear, turning his face away, his heart beating only harder.

"Look at you, y-you little shit." Laufey shakes him violently. "Look at you. Fffuckin' pathetic, weak little bastard."

Loki's eyes burn already with tears, even as he tries desperately to blink them back. Crying will only make it worse, he knows. But he can't help it. He can't help how scared he feels.

"Can't believe... can't believe you k-killed her... you..." Laufey goes on slurring, and for a moment, his eyes grow distant, looking away from Loki, staring blankly ahead at seeming nothing, his hold slackening.

Loki wants to pull away. Wants to run.

This is dangerous. He knows this is dangerous.

Father is drunk, and he's angry, and he's talking about Mom now. Talking about... thinking about how she... she died, and...

Loki knows it's his fault. Knows if he hadn't been born, she'd still be alive.

He hadn't meant to kill her. He hadn't. He... he thinks all the time, if he could die and bring her back, he'd do it. He'd do it in an instant. He knows she deserved to live more than he does. He knows that.

"... Fuckin' killed her." Laufey slurs again, his hold loosening more.

Loki shakes viciously, and can't help it anymore, trying in a moment of desperation to pull away.

It's a mistake, and he knows it, as in an instant, his father's hold on him tightens like a snake, jerking him back.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?!" He snaps, backhanding Loki across the mouth before he can answer.

Loki cries out, his eyes filling thick with fresh tears, unable to stop them from slipping down his cheeks. Can't stop either the sob which catches hard in his throat before breaking free, the taste of blood on his tongue.

"Huh!? W-where you do you think you're going!?" Laufey again shakes him, screaming in his face.

Loki turns away.

"I'm sorry." He sobs, terrified. "I'm s-sorry."

Laufey freezes, his eyes hard on Loki, ugly and hateful.

"... What did you say?" He asks, voice low and menacing.

Loki swallows thickly, his mouth dry, heart slamming now against his ribs.

"What did you say!?" His father snaps, shaking him once more.

"... I'm sss-sorry." Loki cries, sick with fear.

Laufey sneers down at him, disgust plain on his face.

"You're sorry?" He says after a long moment. "... You're... sorry?"

Loki nods weakly, not knowing what else to do, not knowing what to say.

He's terrified if he says anything else, his father will kill him.

"Ohh... that's rich boy." Laufey finally goes on, and there's danger in his voice now. "That's real rich. You're sorry. Well, then, all is forgiven, isn't it? Isn't it!"

Another slap, snapping Loki's head aside, his vision going white, ears wringing.

"You think... think you can say you're sorry, and that'll fix anything!?" Laufey rages.

And suddenly he's lifting Loki up bodily, Loki's stomach flipping as his father raises him up and crushes him down to the floor an instant later, the air tearing from his lungs as he slams against his belly.

He gasps sharply, eyes stinging with more tears, pain ratcheting up through his back and shoulders at the impact.

He's hardly given a moment to think, to realize what's happening, before his father has him again, picking him back up and throwing him across the room like he weighs nothing at all, and whatever breath Loki had had left to him is torn away.

He can't get any air to his lungs as he gasps desperately, panic exploding in his chest.

He tries pushing himself to his hands and knees, some vague realization in his mind that he has to get away, that this is different, somehow... that this is worse. Something awful is going to happen... something...

"You ungrateful... ungrateful little shit... you..." Laufey's voice booms above him, and before Loki can move at all, he feels his father's boot crush into the pit of his stomach, throwing him against the wall. Pain explodes through him, his head spinning in dizzying, nauseating circles, vision blinding and doubling over.

"... p-please." He tries begging, but his voice comes out nothing more than a thin whine, too soft to hear at all.

"You killed her!" Laufey slurs. "You killed Farbuti, you evil little bastard! You... I sh-should kill you. I should kill you for it, you rotten piece of trash. You..."

Loki drowns in his fear, a harsh, ragged sob tearing from his throat. He's going to die, he thinks horribly. He's going to die. Father is going to kill him.

It's the only thought he has before his world dissolves into unimaginable pain.

Something slams into his back. Something solid and heavy, and everything goes black for a moment.

He throws up, vomiting what little food he'd had that day onto the floor.

And then he's crushed back down again, and he feels something shift and crack inside him, a sickening, dull thud sounding through the room, and he doesn't know what it is. Doesn't know what anything is anymore. All he knows is pain, and terror, and he can't see, can't hear, can't...

He's aware, somehow, of being pulled then, dragged across the floor.

"Should k-kill you..." he hears Father mutter above him, his voice seeming distant, far away. "Should kill you."

The scrape of wood, like the sound of a window opening, and the feeling of cold air against his bare skin, penetrating easily through the flimsy material of his shirt and shorts. And then he's being lifted again, the cold growing worse.

Loki only realizes what's happening when he feels the edge of the sill up against his stomach, and the cold air hits him flush in the face.

He comes back to himself completely, and finds himself tipping over the edge of the windowsill, staring down over the edge of their third story flat, the black bars of the fire escape filling his vision.

Fresh fear and panic take hold of him, stealing his breathe anew, and finally, finally, he finds the strength to struggle.

"N-no." He cries, fighting weakly against his father's iron-like grip. "No, p-please no..."

If Laufey hears him, he gives no indication, taking hold of Loki under the pits of his arms, picking him up higher, and Loki knows then, he knows, his father is going to throw him out the window.

His panic blooms into overwhelming terror, and unthinkingly, he reaches out, grabbing hold the frame of the window, desperate to stop what's happening.

"Please, p-please P-Papa, please don't..." he sobs, his words choking and thick with tears. "Please Papa!"

His pleading does nothing though. Laufey only reaches out, tearing his son's hands viciously from the frame.

"This'll... this'll sh-show you boy. This'll teach you."

For a moment, it's like everything goes still. Feels like Loki is just being held there, staring out into the cold dark, not moving, not thinking, not knowing anything. For a moment, it's like the world has just stopped.

And then he feels his stomach fall out from under him, at the same instant he feels his father let him go, and the world beneath him falls away too, and he's falling, falling, falling.

He doesn't even think to scream.

He can't.

He can't do anything but think, this is it, he's going to die, and the fear is unlike anything he's ever known. It paralyzes him, steals his breathe away completely, leaves him numb with nothing but horror.

He's going to die, and there's nothing he can do to stop it.

And then something absolutely unyielding, hard as stone, cracks against his lower back, and he spins, flipped around, the world whirling in a sick circle about him, an explosion of agony ripping through his frame, even as a strange sense of loss, of something wrong, invades his senses. His legs in a moment feel so heavy, feel dead and limp, even as his arms flail, grasping blindly for something to grab onto, finding nothing at all.

It all seems to last forever, to go on and on. Never ending agony and fear.

And then the ground rushes up to meet him. He slams against the hard concrete and snow. He feels his insides move, jostling about in the most wrong way, his head filling with the sound of a deafening buzz.

He blinks, eyes blinded by tears, his face wet and oddly warm, and he sees stretched out before him the grime-ridden alley which sits adjacent to their building, and he wonders, stupidly, how he got there.

Wonders, for an instant, how it is he's seeing anything at all.

He can't move, he thinks a moment later. He can't... can't feel anything. Shouldn't this hurt? Shouldn't he be in pain?

But he isn't. He doesn't feel a thing.

Not a thing at all...

He lies there, staring ahead, and he knows something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong.

But none of that really matters, he thinks. None of it matters, because he'll be dead soon, and this will all go away. And he'll be free. He'll finally be free.

And when he feels darkness washing in from the edges of his vision, he lets go, only relieved then that it's finally over.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Loki blinks, feeling the warmth of tears wash down over his temples, into his hair.

The memories cling thick and unyielding in his mind, dissipating slowly as he comes back to where he is.

He remembers waking up like this in the hospital. Remembers the bright, overhead lights burning his eyes. Remembers being in so much pain, he'd instantly begun crying, confusion and fear only serving to make the agony he felt worse.

Remembers the moment he'd realized he couldn't move his legs. Couldn't... couldn't feel anything below his waist.

Horror. Horror and bemusement, and such a suffocating aloneness. He remembers he'd never felt more alone, more by himself than in that moment.

He'd later found out what happened.

That it had been the blow against the railing of the fire escape which had severed a section of his spine. That blow which had left him paralyzed from the waist down.

He'd suffered internal bleeding and a ruptured spleen, several broken bones.

He'd been in the hospital for nearly four weeks before he'd been allowed out. And if his health had before that been fragile, it was only more so after. He'd never been the same since that night. Only struggled more.

Later, when Father had shown up, he'd told Loki what he was to tell the doctors and police men. That he'd been playing out on the fire escape, like he'd been told by Laufey not to. That he'd fallen, and been found by his father and brother's, and brought here immediately.

And Loki had done as he was told. He'd been too terrified to do anything but.

It was then he'd known he had to get away. Then he had determined that he had to, or he was going to die.

He hadn't known how he was going to do it. Not for a long time.

Things after that had seemed, if possible, more hopeless than ever for him. He'd felt more helpless, more useless, falling into a state of despondency and resignation.

Sometimes, still, he doesn't know how he'd found the will to fight it. How he'd gotten away.

How he'd gotten here.

Sometimes he thinks it all must be some elaborate dream he's conjured up. That he's really still back there, with his father and brothers. Still trapped there, in that flat with them. Still locked away and helpless, just waiting to die.

But no, he knows that isn't true. Knows this is real, here and now. Knows he's really lying here, in a bed more comfortable than any he's ever lain in. Knows he's... for the first time in his life, he has friends. Real friends. People who care about him, even if only a little. Darcy and Thor and... and Thor's family, who seem so nice and...

Knows for the first time in his life, he's safe. Really safe.

It's with that thought in his mind he closes his eyes and, finally, finds enough rest in himself to sleep.


	16. Chapter 16

Loki stirs from sleep, slowly at first, exhaustion continuing to cling to his mind stubbornly, not wanting to wake.

Only... gradually, he becomes aware of something pushing up against him, against his shoulder, and at the periphery of his consciousness, he thinks he hears someone talking, a voice repeating itself again and again.

“Hey...” it says, he thinks. “Hey...”

Another push against his shoulder, and in an instant, the malaise of sleep clears from Loki's mind, and his eyes snap open, looking up and seeing standing above him the face of a young man, incredibly good looking with shockingly blue eyes and sandy blonde hair.

It takes Loki only a moment longer to recognize the face.

Thor's younger brother. Baldr, he thinks his name is. And with that realization, a kind of nervous fear uncoils in Loki's gut, as he takes in the irritated expression on the other boy's face.

“Hey man,” Baldr goes on. “you're in my bed.”

Loki blinks back at him, words suddenly paralyzed by doubt and worry, body frozen just the same.

The other boy sighs, rolling his eyes.

“Look man, you're one of my brother's buddies, right? The wheelchair's a cute ploy.” 

Loki can only continue to stare at Thor's younger brother, his hands tightening in the material of the blanket pulled up to his chest.

“Dude, I know you guys think this shit's funny, taking over my room when I'm not here. But I told Thor already it's not cool. You gotta go, right now.”

Still, Loki finds himself unable to reply, too taken aback, confusion deepening.

“Dude, right now!” Baldr says, suddenly insistent, even angry sounding, and Loki's stomach drops.

He doesn't have time to react beyond that before the other boy is reaching out and grabbing hold of his wrist, dragging him upright and straight out of the bed.

Loki goes crashing to the floor, his legs a useless heap beneath him, the abruptness of it all and the overwhelming strength of Thor's brother giving him no chance to even catch himself on his hands as he crumples to his face against the carpet. 

And a mixture of humiliation and pain explodes inside him then, his heart beating too hard against his chest.

He half expects a sudden and swift kick to his stomach, expects the breath in his lungs to be stolen away and agony to come radiating through his pitiful form.

Unthinkingly, he curls up into himself, forming a useless shell in a sorry attempt to defend.

Only... no kick ever comes, and as the seconds tick by, Loki dares to lift his face and look, and he sees Baldr standing there, staring down at him wide eyed, mouth agape.

“J-Jesus, dude... I...” he starts after a moment, clearly horrified. “You're... I mean, I didn't... Dude, I am so sorry. Oh my God, I thought...”

Loki barely has any time to process what Thor's brother is saying before the other boy is bending down and grabbing hold of him underneath the arms, picking him up easily.

For a moment, the instinct to struggle, to fight back, nearly overwhelms Loki, and he hardly manages to stamp it down as Baldr picks him back up onto the mattress, pulling him and pushing him, arranging him almost like a doll against the headboard.

Loki feels mortified, his face heating with embarrassment.

“Are you okay?” The other boy asks. “God, I'm gonna kill Thor. He never tells me anything man!”

“I'm okay.” Loki manages after a moment, realizing suddenly his exposed state. How he's wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts, and his embarrassment grows tenfold as he crosses his arms over his scrawny, pale chest in an attempt to hide.

If Baldr notices, he gives no indication, only continuing to ramble on at a break neck pace.

“You're Thor's friend, right? Unless you're one of Mom's patient's? But she's never really brought one of them home before. So you must be Thor's friend?” 

Loki nods, fixing his eyes on the floor. 

“Hey, you sure you're okay dude? Seriously, if I'd known, I never would've...”

“I'm okay.” Loki repeats quietly. “Believe me, I've had... worse...”

Baldr falls silent a moment, and Loki can feel the boy's gaze on him, making him all the more uncomfortable.

God, he must look pitiful to the kid, who's nearly as broad as Thor, and just as handsome.

“Dude, awesome accent!” He says after a moment. “Where're you from?”

Loki opens his mouth, about to answer. It seems everyone asks him this same question since he's gotten to America. Loki's never really understood the fascination people here seem to have with it. In Europe, there are so many different accents everywhere, and nobody cares at all.

But then suddenly Thor's voice calls out, and a moment later, he's standing in the room's doorway, wide eyed.

“Baldr, what are you doing!?” He asks, sounding alarmed as his gaze shifts between his brother and Loki. 

“What am I doing!?” Baldr says back. “What are you doing!? This is my room man!”

But Thor hardly seems to hear him, instead stepping into the room, past his brother, before crouching down in front of Loki, looking him in the face.

“Are you alright?” He asks urgently. “Are you hurt?”

“I'm alright.” Loki starts, but again, Thor's attention is pulled away, looking back towards Baldr.

“Did you hurt him?” He asks his brother.

“No!” Baldr says. “... I mean, I thought you and your friends were pulling another prank, like you always do, so I... well, I pulled him outta the bed...”

“You what!?” Thor nearly shouts, stranding.

“He said he wasn't hurt! Dude, I didn't mean to! If I'd known he was... well...”

“What the hell is wrong with you!?” Thor goes on over him. “Baldr, you could've seriously hurt him!”

“I know!” His brother says back, voice nearly as loud.

“Didn't you see his wheelchair?” Thor demands.

“Yeah, but I thought it was part of the prank. I swear, I had no idea.”

They continue arguing back and forth for several seconds, and Loki feels suddenly overwhelmed, his head spinning, frustration and anger and humiliation warring inside him.

Until suddenly he can't take it another moment, his temper flaring.

“I'm alright!” He snaps, loud enough to jar the two brother's out of their argument, the both of them turning towards him with startled expressions.

Loki breathes out through his nose, trying to calm himself down.

“I'm alright.” He repeats after a moment, more softly. “I told you both already.”

Thor seems for an instant like he's about to say something, but he must think better of it, as after a moment, he closes his mouth, shoulders slumping slightly.

“Sorry.” He says. “I just... I was worried.”

Loki sighs, looking away.

“It's fine.” He answers, trying to keep himself relaxed. He knows Thor was just concerned. He doesn't deserve to be yelled at. “Could I just, um... get dressed, and then I'll clear out of here?”

He looks to Baldr as he asks, and the other boy grins broadly, charming and handsome, and Loki feels himself blush, not even understanding why.

“Sure!” Thor's brother says. “Let's go man.” 

He grabs hold of Thor's arm and in a moment, is dragging the older boy out with him, closing the door behind them. 

Loki breathes out in relief, falling back against the headboard, just sitting there a few minutes.

So that was Thor's brother.

He seemed nice, which Loki supposes he shouldn't be surprised about. Everyone in Thor's family was nice.

It was only Loki's experience which had made him worry, he guesses. It was just... most boys who were handsome like that, it seemed to him, had always been so mean. At least to him.

But Baldr seemed nice. 

But he can't think about that now.

He has to get dressed, and then he's got to think about getting back to his apartment. 

Michael must be missing him.

//

“You met him at the library?” What were you doing at the library?!” Baldr grins, and Thor throws a blueberry across the table at him.

“Shut up you little twerp.” He says, even as his brother dodges the berry, laughing. Thor can't help grinning in turn, shaking his head. “I do study.”

“Really?” Baldr asks, deadpan.

Thor's about to lob another berry at him when he hears Mom's voice call out.

“No throwing food at the table.” She says, and Thor drops the would be projectile, muttering to himself.

Baldr just keeps giggling.

“So where's he from?” He asks after a moment. “I tried asking, but then you interrupted.”

“Iceland.” Thor answers. “Some small fishing village.”

Baldr laughs.

“Seriously?” He asks.

Thor nods.

“Yeah. But he said he moved to London when he was I think eight or something. And then he came over here to the US last year.”

“Wow.” Baldr says. “That's crazy.”

Again, Thor nods. 

It is crazy, he thinks. 

Loki's so young, but from the little Thor's been able to glean, it seems like he's already been through more than most adults.

“Sooo... how'd he... you know...” Baldr goes on, gesturing at his own legs.

Thor frowns at him, it taking a moment for him to get what his brother is suggesting.

“I don't know.” He answers quickly, a little sharply. “I haven't asked him.”

Baldr gives him a look like he's stupid.

“Why not?” He asks, sounding genuinely confused, and Thor rolls his eyes.

“Because it's rude, dumb ass. That's why.”

“Only If you think there's something wrong with being paralyzed.” Baldr answers, like the little smart ass he is, and reprimand or no, Thor throws another berry at him, this time hitting him right on the forehead.

“Hey!” His brother complains.

“Listen,” Thor goes on, ignoring Baldr's protest. “Loki's a really sweet kid, and he's been through some bad shit. So just... be nice to him, alright? And don't ask him any stupid questions. If he wants to tell us what happened to him, he will.”

“Alright, alright. Jeeze, I was just pullin' your chain Thor.” Baldr replies, putting his hands up. “Anyway, you're right. He seems like a nice kid. I didn't mean to scare him.”

“I know.” Thor says.

“... He seems a little sickly.” Bladr goes on after a moment. “I mean... is he alright? Health wise, I mean.”

“Baldr, come on.” Thor sighs. 

This is the problem with his brother.

He always means well, but he's always had a bit of a problem with boundaries too. If people accuse Thor of being open and blunt, Baldr is even more so.

“Sorry.” Baldr says, seeming at least to get what he just did. “I just felt a little bad for him.”

Again Thor sighs.

“I know man. But he doesn't like that stuff. Just treat him like you would any of your friends.”

“Yeah, okay. I will. I promise.”

And that's good enough for Thor.

He knows his brother is good for his word.

//

“Loki!” Frigga exclaims happily as she sees Thor's young friend wheeling himself from Baldr's room, out into the hallway.

She feels instantly bad as she sees the boy flinch visibly at the sound of her voice. She hadn't meant to startle him. Though she is happy to see him also visibly relax once he sets eyes on her. 

Good, she thinks. That's good. If he trusts her even a little. Especially with what she and Odin are planning to propose once they get everyone down and sitting at the breakfast table.

Her and her husband had stayed up late into the early morning last night discussing it.

It had taken some convincing on her part, but, ultimately, Odin was a good man, with a good heart, a generous heart. And though he'd only known Loki a few scant hours, as had she, they both could easily see the boy was also good, and in desperate need of help. Besides all that, they trusted in Thor's judgment as well. 

They wanted to help Loki. That was agreed. Odin had proposed some alternatives, beyond the obligation and red tape of an actual adoption. And Frigga had agreed they were all good ideas. Certainly, an adoption would take some time anyway, and so what other aide they could lend in the meantime was only a good thing, she'd figured.

But still... ultimately, adoption was the plan. 

Frigga could hardly stand it, to see such a bright and obviously gifted child in such dire straits. But that's obviously what Loki was.

Vague as he had been in giving the details of his past, like Thor, she had easily enough been able to glean he likely came from an abusive background, and, more likely still, she thought, he probably wasn't in this country legally. 

Adoption then had come to her as, above all else, a means of rescuing him from inevitably being found out and deported back to where he had come from. She knew without even having to ask any questions that, for Loki, such a scenario would prove devastating.

He had the feel of someone who was running from something. Nothing criminal, she didn't think. Loki didn't strike her as the type, and furthermore, with the way he was, she didn't think, even were he inclined, he could successfully commit anything of such a nature.

But he was running, of that she was sure, and to be sent back to it...

She simply couldn't allow that. Not while she had it in her power to help.

Smiling gently, she walks towards the boy, laying a soft hand on his shoulder once she reaches him, looking down at him with what she hopes is a reassuring expression.

“Did you have a good night?” She asks, and Loki nods, looking shyly away.

“Very good, thank you.” He answers quietly. “A... and you?”

“Very well. Thank you too.” Frigga answers, charmed by the boy's politeness. “Listen, I've cooked breakfast for everyone downstairs in the kitchen. I was just coming to check on you actually and see if I could offer my help in escorting you?”

Loki blinks up at her, seeming, for a moment, confused by what she's just said.

“... Um, well, ac... actually, M-Mrs. Borson, I was thinking I should p-probably get home now, if... if that's alright. I need to feed my kitten and m-make sure everything's alright.”

Frigga smiles again, nodding. 

“Of course dear. But please, won't you eat something first? I wouldn't feel right with you just going home without a proper breakfast. And afterward either Thor or my husband can drive you back?”

Loki seems to hesitate for a moment, uncertain, and Frigga finds herself holding her breathe, hoping he doesn't say no.

She's so eager to begin talking to him about her and Odin's plans, and if he goes home straight away, she isn't sure when she'll have another opportunity.

And so she can't help the relief she feels when, at last, he gives a weak nod.

“Okay.” He says.

//

Getting Loki down the stairs is a bit more difficult a task than Frigga would have liked or hoped, but somehow she manages it, taking hold the handles of his chair and lowering him down each step backwards, carefully, one at a time.

Loki, bless him, doesn't make a single sound of complaint, even when she accidentally pulls him down one step too quickly, clearly jarring him. She gasps out a fast apology, and he just tells her it's alright.

Finally, she gets him to the landing and he tells her quietly thank you, and that he can wheel himself the rest of the way.

She wants to wrap him in a hug and never let go.

He's so sweet, but the fragility of him just breaks her heart.

//

Loki blinks, not entirely sure he's hearing right, staring dazedly between Thor and his entire family.

“I... I'm sorry?” He breathes finally.

“Adoption.” Frigga explains, her voice gentle and patient. “It means that, legally, we would become your guardian's. Odin and myself. It means we could take care of you, and also help resolve whatever... issues there might be, if any, in terms of your citizenship in this country. It would ensure your continued ability to live here without question or worry.”

Loki barely registers her words though, fixed suddenly as he is on her heavy suggestion of knowing he's in the states illegally.

How would she know?! He'd been so careful, he thought. Tried covering his tracks. If... oh God, if she knew, if she really knew, then...

“Loki,” she says, her hand suddenly on his own, squeezing gently, pulling him from his spiraling thoughts. “Please, don't worry. This is a good thing. We want to help you, not hurt you. Whatever situation you're coming from, we aren't trying to send you back that.”

Loki swallows, his head still spinning, not understanding.

“Why?” He blurts out, unable to help himself. “Why do you want to help me. You... y-you don't even know me.”

“Because you're Thor's friend.” Frigga answers again, smiling kindly. “And because I think I've spent enough time around you now to determine that you're a good person, who maybe just needs a little help.”

Loki shakes his head, not believing what he's hearing. This isn't the sort of thing that just... just happens. People always have an agenda. They always want something.

“Y-you don't know that. You don't know I'm a g-good person. I...” 

“Of course you are.” Thor says now. “Loki, you're a great guy. I'm proud to call you my friend.”

Loki gapes at him, shocked by how... how naive Thor is being. He's known him barely a week, and he already says it with so much certainty. If... if Thor knew, if any of his family knew, where he'd come from, what he'd... what he'd done to his own mother, they would turn from him in horror.

“And anyway,” it's Odin talking now. “the adoption would be down the line a little. There's a lot of paper work and legalities we'd need to sort. In the mean time, we thought we might help out a little financially. Maybe move you into a safer neighborhood, just temporarily. Something closer to your place of work perhaps. We were thinking too that, unless you have a high school diploma already, we could enroll you in a program to obtain your GED, and from there you could start applying for college, if you wanted.”

Loki looks away, again shaking his head.

This is too much, he thinks. Too much, too fast. He doesn't... he doesn't even really know these people, except Thor. They don't really know him. And yet... they're being so kind, so generous.

He's never... never known so much generosity. No one's ever treated him so nicely...

And suddenly he finds he can't control himself, can't help it as he begins crying in earnest.

Oh, God, he's humiliating himself, he thinks. Making such an embarrassment of himself. But he can't help it. He can't stop, covering his face with his hands as he tries vainly to choke down his own sobs.

“Loki, what's wrong?!” Thor starts, sounding alarmed, standing from his own seat and coming over. “What is it?”

But Loki can't answer, choking and sputtering as he tries desperately to reign his emotions in.

“Loki,” Thor tries again, putting a hand on his back.

“He's just a little overwhelmed sweetie.” Loki hears Frigga say. “Just give him a moment.”

He needs more than that, several minutes passing by before Loki is able to finally get himself to calm down, his sobs at last subsiding, and he feels so stupid.

“I'm sorry.” He mutters, still hiding his face. “I'm s-sorry, I just... I don't understand. I don't...”

“It's alright honey.” Frigga says when his voice trails off, lost. “You don't have to understand anything. We only want to help you. And we just wanted to offer it as something for you to think about. It's totally up to you. No pressure. You can say no and it's alright. Or you can say yes, and that''s alright too. Okay?”

And Loki believes her. He does. He just doesn't understand why. Why these people... these wealthy, cultured, educated people even care about him at all. They're better than him. So much better. Why should they even be bothered?

But he doesn't ask. He isn't sure he really even wants to know. Only nods his head weakly, overcome with the reality of what's happening, a kind of shock falling over him. It doesn't seem real. How can it be? He doesn't deserve this. He hasn't done anything to deserve this.

He'd met Thor purely by accident. He'd... he'd yelled at Thor the first time he ever spoke to him even. And now his family was offering to help him with money, help him get an education, offering... offering to make him a part of their life. Part of their family.

He doesn't know how any of this even happened. It seems unreal.

Like it all must be a dream.

Only this time it's a dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

He doesn't want to wake up and find out it was all imagination. Wake up back in his life with no friends and no family and no hope for anything better at all.

//

Thor ends up dropping him back off at his apartment later, offering to help carry Loki's things up, which Loki accepts gratefully. He tells Thor that just the front door is fine, and he'll manage the rest. Thor of course asks if he's sure, and Loki just nods, telling him yes.

He needs some time alone, after everything. Needs time to think.

Thankfully, Thor seems to understand, and tells him alright.

It's just another shock to add to the day's growing list when the older boy bends down suddenly and wraps Loki in a tight hug.

“Take care of yourself, kay?” Thor says against his ear. “And you can think about what Mom and Dad said maybe.”

Loki nods, awkwardly returning the hug.

“I will.” He promises. “And... thank you Thor. F-for everything. Truly.”

Thor holds onto him a few moments longer, before finally letting go and straightening.

“I'll see you tomorrow at the library?” He says, smiling down at Loki, and Loki smiles meekly back, nodding.

“Sure.” He answers. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

He waits until Thor finally makes his way down the hallway and disappears into the elevator before finally turning towards his apartment door, fishing his keys out of his coat pocket and beginning the task of getting the thing open.

His building looks even more pitiful now, when he thinks about the beauty and class of Thor's home, and he feels his face heat with slight embarrassment as he wonders what Thor must think of where he lives.

But he tries shoving those thoughts aside. They won't do him any good anyway.

He still can't believe what Thor's parent's had offered. Couldn't quite wrap his head around that this was actually real, actually happening. 

Things like this didn't happen to him.

He kept expecting someone to jump out from somewhere and tell him it was all some elaborate and cruel joke.

But no. That wasn't so. Thor and his family, for whatever reason, had taken a sincere interest in him, in his well being even. 

Loki liked to think he was a reasonably good judge of character, once he got to talk to someone a little, and he couldn't find any ingenuousness behind any of their words or actions. 

They wanted to help him. They wanted... wanted him to be a part of their lives.

Loki didn't think... he didn't think anyone had ever wanted that. Had ever, genuinely wanted him around.

His real family had certainly never wished it. 

His father and brother's had treated him as if it would have been the greatest relief to them if he had simply never been born at all.

But maybe, now... maybe, if Thor's family really meant it, maybe he could have a new family. 

The thought alone is enough to wash away all the fears and anxieties from the last few days, and he finds himself, unexpectedly, smiling as at last he gets the lock undone and pushes his apartment door open. He feels lighter, somehow. Like a great weight has just been lifted off his shoulders. 

Maybe this is happiness. Maybe this is what it feels like to be truly, actually happy.

Wheeling himself past the door's threshold, into the apartment, he calls out for Michael quickly, wanting to make sure the little guy is alright.

“Michael, hey buddy, I'm home.” He starts, turning his chair to take up the packages of clothes Thor had bought him and bring them inside. “I'm sorry I left you here alone fella.” He goes on. “I was out with... with a friend.” 

God, he still isn't used to saying that. To even acknowledging that he has an actual friend. At least one outside of work.

“I bet you're hungry for some canned food, huh?” He goes on, setting the bags down carefully inside the door before reaching to close it. “Just give me a few minutes and I'll get you some read...”

The words die in his throat as he begins to swing the door shut, instead a sharp, painful gasp tearing from his throat as he sees someone standing there. Someone who'd been hiding behind the door.

He chokes on it, on the gasp, and at once the world spins in sickening, ceaseless circles, a terror which drowns him surging up from the pit of his stomach and strangling him.

No, he thinks. No, no, no... This isn't... this can't be...

He gasps again as his eyes refuse to change the image before him, and in a moment, his horror turns to panic, and thoughtlessly, he's reaching again for the door, trying with desperate, clumsy movements to open it back up, to escape, to get away, away, away, he has to get away!

He doesn't get any sort of chance.

“Don't think so boy.” Laufey sneers down at him, moving fast as lightening to block his path. “Helblindi,” he starts, looking over Loki, to somewhere behind.

And Loki can't think, he can't breathe. This isn't happening. This isn't real. Oh God, God, please...

Only an instant later, there's a crushingly strong grip round both his arms, and he's being lifted like a child out of his chair and thrown violently onto the floor.

Pain explodes down his spine and against the back of his skull as he impacts the ground, hitting his head, explosions of white filling his vision, ears ringing.

He doesn't even have a moment to understand what's happening, to see, before there are another set of hands on him, again viciously strong, and he's being turned over onto his stomach, his arms yanked behind him with embarrassing ease, and the feel of something thick and rough being twined quickly and painfully round his thin wrists.

In a moment, his arms are bound tight and relentless behind his back, and his terror, impossibly, increases tenfold.

“No,” he cries, his voice sounding pathetically weak and childish to his own ears. “no, no.” 

He doesn't know what he's doing. Doesn't know what he hopes to accomplish. Only blind fear pushes him forward, some deep instinct screaming at him that he's going to die if he doesn't try. He tries crawling away, tries crawling across the floor, he doesn't even know to where. Just away.

But his arms tied behind his back make it impossible for him to get any leverage at all, and his legs, oh, his useless, crippled legs, they do nothing but drag him down and keep him in place.

Tears fill his eyes in an instant, thick and hot, blinding him completely.

“No,” he cries again, pitifully. “no, please no...”

The sound of heavy footsteps along the floorboards makes his voice die in his throat, and then, suddenly, there his father is, leaning down beside him, his thick, meat hook hand fisting in Loki's hair, pulling his head violently up off the floor.

“What did you think, boy,” He hisses against Loki's ear, and immediately, Loki begins to sob hysterically, his heart beating so hard against his chest, he's certain in that very moment he's going to die. “that you could actually get away?”


	17. Chapter 17

“Loki...”

“Loki!”

He lifts his head up, staring into Bylistr's face, his brother's features blurry and obscure for the tears clouding his vision.

Bylistr rolls his eyes, shaking his head.

“C'mere.” He says. “And quit your ballin'. You know you only do this shit to yourself.”

Loki wipes clumsily at his eyes, hesitating only a moment, before he goes crawling over to his brother.

It's stupid, he thinks, but he wants desperately sometimes to throw his arms around Bylistir and hug him tightly. He'd never dare to. Bylistr would likely just shove him off and yell at him for being such a wimp. But at least... at least Bylistir wouldn't hit him. Not like Father, or Helblindi. 

Sometimes, even, Bylistr can be sort of nice. A little.

Like now. 

His brother picks him up, pulling him between his knees.

“Man, you really got it good this time, didn't you Loki.” He says, and Loki doesn't say anything. Bylistr shakes his head again. “You gotta stop pissing Dad off so much. You know better than to say anything when he's mad like that.”

His brother has a wet wash clothe, and he's using it now to wipe off Loki's face. Wiping the tears and snot and blood away.

Loki wants to say that he doesn't know how he's supposed to act, because Father's always angry, it seems like to him anyway, and whether Loki talks or stays quiet, he'll get hit either way.

He flinches, whimpering weakly when his brother runs the cloth over a deep cut above his left eye.

“Hold still.” Bylistr orders softly. “I know it stings.”

Loki tries. He tries to do as he's told. He tries to be good. He can't keep himself from crying though, even though he manages to choke his sobs down, the tears falling silently down his cheeks.

Sometimes, when Bylistr is nice to him like this, Loki feels more alone than ever.

“Do you hate me?” He asks, not really meaning to.

He clamps his mouth shut immediately when he realizes what he's done, casting his eyes to the floor as his brother stills.

Bylistr doesn't hit him, he keeps telling himself. Not like Father or Helblindi. 

It doesn't do much to quell his suddenly swelling panic.

Seconds seem to stretch forever without any response, and Loki squeezes his lids closed, terrified. He begins to shake.

“... I don't hate you.” His brother finally says, and Loki can't help it as he sobs out in relief, equally for the fact that at least someone in his family doesn't, and for the fact that Bylistr doesn't even sound mad that he asked. Doesn't sound like he's going to punish him for it.

“Shut up.” His brother chastises. “You want Dad to hear you crying? He'll come in here and beat your ass again if he does.”

Loki shakes his head frantically, choking as he forces himself to swallow down his sobs again.

He tries to stay still and quiet then as Bylistr finishes cleaning his face.

His brother puts Band-Aids on some of the cuts, more tears escaping Loki's eyes as the anti-infection cream he puts on the strips stings badly, but he manages to stay good as Bylistr helps him out of his soiled clothes and into the bathtub. 

“Stay here and wash yourself up.” His brother tells him. “Don't get the Band-Aids wet. I'm gonna go see what's going on in the other room, and I'll be back to help you get dressed in a little while.”

Loki nods, keeping his eyes fixed on the already dirtying water.

It's nearly an hour before Bylistr comes back though, and the water had long since grown cold, Loki knowing he wasn't allowed to move, and so he'd sat there shivering in the frigid air.

His brother rolls his eyes and shakes his head, and Loki knows he's disgusted as he bends down and picks him up out of the water.

“Why're you so stupid Loki?” He asks as he begins to dry him roughly off with a towel. 

“I... I'm sorry.” Loki stammers, and he can't stop shaking, he's so cold.

“Whatever, just... come on. Let's get you dressed and then you can go to sleep.” 

Loki nods silently, trying not to get in the way as Bylistr gets him into his night clothes.

“Now you just go to sleep.” His brother tells him when finally they get to Loki's small room. “And don't start any of that bawlin'. Dad'll just get pissed.”

Again, Loki nods, looking at the floor.

He wants... he wants to run up to Bylistr and hug him. Want's his brother to hug him back.

But he knows better than to try that. And so he just stands there, and neither of them say anything to each other as his brother leaves the room, closing the door, leaving Loki alone and in the dark.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Get him up.” Laufey orders. “Put him there.” He gestures towards the couch, and Loki's being lifted then by Helblindi and thrown down on the cushions. He lands hard, losing his balance as he falls over onto his side, the edge of his face smacking roughly against the couches armrest.

He can't stop crying, his chest heaving with shallow breathes, hyperventilating. 

He wants to call out for Thor. Maybe... maybe if he screams loud enough, maybe...

“Open that fuckin' hole of yours and I'll stuff it full of my belt.” Laufey's voice cuts into his thoughts, and whatever Loki had been thinking dies in his mind, terror pushing it out.

This isn't happening. Oh God, God, this can't be happening, Loki thinks frantically. How? How did his family find him? How did they get in here? And... oh God, Michael, what did... where is he? 

Loki feels his breaths grow shallower still as his imagination presents sickening scenarios to him, his heart pounding painfully, blood rushing in his ears.

Another, thick sob escapes past his teeth, and he moans desperately, pressing his face against the armrest.

This isn't happening.

“Look at this faggot shit.” Laufey starts, pacing back and forth. 

There's a loud crash, and Loki flinches violently where he lays, too afraid to look.

Only he knows already what it was.

His father is knocking things over, and the sound of ripping paper fills Loki's ears, Laufey tearing down his posters.

“Looks like you've been busy, huh boy?” He goes on talking, continuing to knock things around. “Yeah, you've made a nice little hole to squalor in after stealin' my money, haven't you?”

“Please...” Loki whimpers, still hiding his face away. He wants Thor... he wants Thor to come and...

“You shut up boy!” Laufey suddenly roars, and in an instant, there's a crushing impact against Loki's temple, sending his head spinning, his vision whiting out and ears filling with a high pitched sound. Pain radiates down his spine, his temples pulsing, threatening a migraine, and unthinkingly, he curls away. It's all too known. The feel of his father's backhand against him. He whimpers again, even as he chokes trying to swallow it down, knowing it will only make Laufey angrier.

Laufey scoffs.

“Look at you. Fuckin' pathetic as ever.” He hisses. “And who was that out there with you, huh? That big, dumb lookin' pretty boy?”

“Probably his boyfriend.” Helblindi laughs, somewhere behind Loki.

“How's that work? He can't feel nothin' below the waist.” Bylistr. That was Bylistr.

Loki can't help the surge of desperate hope which swells inside him, and unthinkingly, he tries turning, tries catching sight of his second oldest brother.

He doesn't know what he's doing. Doesn't know what he hopes to accomplish. Bylistr may not have been as cruel as Father and Helblindi, but he never did anything to stop their cruelty either. He never helped.

It doesn't matter now though. He'll try anything... anything...

“Bylistr...” he chokes, his voice a wavering, weak strain. “Bylistir, p-please, h-hel...”

“Don't look to him for help boy.” Laufey snaps, his massive, powerful hand taking sudden hold of Loki's jaw and turning him away, his fingers crushingly tight, and Loki cries out, fresh tears springing to his eyes. “He ain't gonna help you.”

“Would you look at this shit.” Helblindi suddenly says, the sound of rustling paper bags filling the air.

Laufey shoves Loki's face away, turning his attention to his older son.

“What?” He asks, and Helblindi laughs, pulling out one of the shirts Thor had bought Loki yesterday morning.

“Look at these clothes.” He says, unfolding the button up. “This is pure silk.”

He tosses the shirt to Laufey, who catches it, turning it over in his hands.

“Looks like Loki here's found himself a sugar daddy.” Helblindi goes on, still laughing.

“Yeah... it looks that way.” Laufey says, his voice flat and emotionless, and immediately, Loki feels his heart drop, a nauseating coil of fear blooming in the pit of his stomach. 

He recognizes that tone. Knows it better than any.

It means danger. It means horrible, terrible danger.

His father turns towards him then, a thin smile curling up at the corners of his lips as he walks slowly towards Loki.

“Is that what that boy is, son?” He asks, kneeling down so that he's eye level. “You actually learn enough about the world while you've been away to sack yourself a sugar daddy? You even know what that is?”

Loki can't look at him. Can't hold his father's gaze. His eyes cast down, tears to thick in them anyway to see anything.

“You answer me when I'm talking to you Loki!” Laufey spits, and an instant later, the back of his knuckles connect hard against Loki's jaw, sending him flying off the couch, cracking his shoulder against the glass coffee table. The taste of copper washes over his tongue, the world spinning, and he can't see, can't hear anything. He groans weakly, only vaguely aware of the fresh pain throbbing through his shoulder.

“Get up. Get up you fagot piece of shit!” Laufey goes on, and Loki doesn't even have a moment to recover before his father's hands are on him again, lifting him up under the pits of his arms, dragging him around and pulling him across the room.

Loki gasps, his senses coming back to him. But there's little use in struggling, and he knows it already.

He catches sight of his two brother's, watching him from the other side of the room, only standing there.

“Thor...” he cries out weakly, terror doing away with reason. “Thor!”

“Is that his name?” Laufey spits, and the world whirls sickeningly as he spins Loki round, smashing him against the wall, holding him up and in place, a heavy forearm against his throat. Loki's legs hang uselessly, and he sputters, his eyes closing as he feels his windpipe crush, stealing his air.

“I guess you think you've moved up in the world, huh boy?” His father asks, and he still towers over Loki, still so much bigger and stronger, and he always will be, Loki thinks despairingly. There's never anything Loki will be able to do against him. Never anything.

Laufey grins, his eyes cold and mean and hateful.

“Looks to me like you forgot your place, little Loki.” He says. “And hasn't it always been my place to show you yours? You think you deserve nice things like this?”

He holds up the silk shirt, waving it in Loki's face.

“Huh!?” He asks, leaning more heavily with his forearm.

Loki chokes out, shaking his head frantically.

“Speak up Loki. I can't hear you.” Laufey sneers.

“Nn... n-no... nno...” Loki whimpers, his voice barely even a whisper. He can't breathe, oh God...

His father smirks, seeming satisfied.

“You're pathetic.” He says. “You're barely even on the level of a fucking dog. In fact...”

His eyes shift, moving over Loki's frame, up and down, slow and accessing, and Loki wants to curl in on himself and disappear forever. 

“You don't really need any of this, do you?” And suddenly he has a fistful of Loki's shirt, and he's tearing, rending the material like a hot knife through butter, the buttons popping off and flying, scattering across the floor.

Loki cries out as Laufey tears his shirt open, ripping the material to shreds, pulling it free, until Loki stands bare-chested, what remains of his top hanging in ribbons around his bound wrists.

“These too.” Laufey says, and abruptly he lets go of Loki, letting him crash to a heap on the floor before bending down and beginning to tear at the waistband of his pants, popping the button loose easily as he had with his shirt, yanking the trousers down his hips.

“No,” Loki struggles weakly, uselessly. “no, please, G-God... God, help me...”

“Ain't no God to help you boy.” Laufey say, pushing him over onto his stomach, pulling his pants down the rest of the way. “Ain't no one gonna help you at all.”

//

Thor is just opening the drivers side door to his car when he hears a quiet mewing sound, and looking down at his feet, he sees a cat. Well, more a kitten really.

And then he blinks, realizing a moment later that the kitten looks just like Loki's cat, Michael. Not just like him, Thor thinks, as he continues staring. That is Michael.

“Meeew...” The kitten paces back and forth at his feet, meowing almost urgently, seeming restless. “Meeeeeeew...”

Thor frowns, confused and inexplicably feeling unsettled. 

“How did you get out here little guy?” He asks, closing his car door and bending, picking the kitten up.

Michael squirms, again mewing loudly.

Thor holds onto him, looking up towards Loki's apartment building, trying to think.

He can't understand how Michael got out. There's a door you have to open at the front of the building, just to get in and out. And another one leading to the stairwell on Loki's floor. And Thor didn't think Michael could have gotten on the elevator.

Holding the kitten to his chest securely, he steps back onto the sidewalk, staring up towards Loki's floor, moving around the building, to the other side.

The fire escape, he thinks, as he looks up and sees the window to Loki's bedroom is open. That must be how Michael got out. Maybe Loki opened it and the little guy jumped out and ran down the escape.

It's the only explanation Thor can think of.

“Well come on buddy. Loki must be worried about you.”

Thor moves back around to the front of the building, keeping a good grip on Michael as he goes back in and heads for the elevators, pressing the call button.

Absently, he strokes Michael's head, trying to calm him down. He keeps squirming and mewing, acting agitated.

Thor hopes Loki is alright. He knows his friend doesn't like to be fussed over, but Thor really can't help it. He should have stayed and helped Loki with his packages, at least, he thinks, growing impatient as the elevator seems to take forever.

Maybe Loki is trying to get down here for Michael and that's why it's taking so long.

Finally, the indicator overhead lights up, and Thor lets go a breathe he hadn't even known he was holding. He feels nervous and he doesn't know why. Just some feeling...

“Come on...” he says under his breath, waiting for the doors to open.

The second they do, he nearly rushes inside, pressing the button for the second floor.

//

“Give me your belt Helblindi.” Laufey orders, pulling the strap of his own taught against the back of Loki's head, the leather pressing his tongue down.

The taste of it fills Loki's mouth as his father gags him, and he struggles against the awful sensation of swallowing his own tongue, squeezing his eyes shut, trying to keep himself calm. He feels like he's going to suffocate, he's breathing so hard, no air seeming to fill his lungs, his head pounding, the all too familiar pain, like a drill pressing against the backs of his eyes.

He can hear his older brother undoing his belt and handing it to Laufey, and the next thing he knows, he's being turned over onto his back again, and the feel of his father's large hand comes to rest of his exposed stomach, heavy and too warm.

“Look at that soft belly of yours boy.” Laufey taunts, smirking down at him, his hand flexing. Loki fights not to squirm. “You hear about cripples who can't use their legs, so they make their upper body strong. That obviously ain't you though, is it son? Look at how soft and weak you are. Just like a little piglet, waiting to get his tummy slice open.”

Tears slip from Loki's eyes, hot and wet, sliding down his temples, into his hair, and he turns his face away. The only thing he can do to defend himself now. His arms are beginning to ache viciously where they remain tied behind his back, his weight crushing them down against the hard floorboards.

“So let's say we start with that soft belly of yours, huh Loki? A few good wack's should get you back into the mind of what your place is.”

And his father stands then, thwacking the belt he holds against his palm loudly, and Loki flinches involuntarily, fresh fear uncoiling in his gut. He knows what's coming. He's suffered it enough times before.

It does nothing to make this easier. To lessen his terror.

He was such a fool, he thinks then. Such a complete fool, to think he could actually escape. To think he could get away and make a new life for himself. A different life. To think his father wouldn't come and find him and bring him back.

He didn't deserve anything better. That was the plain reality. 

He'd killed his own mother, just by being born, and his father hated him for it. Hated him so much, he would never let him go. And that was what Loki deserved. He'd been taught that. He'd been shown.

He hears the sound of the belt cracking the air first, exploding in his ears, before he feels it an instant later, the slice of the leather and the metal buckle, tearing open the skin on his stomach.

The pain is shocking, after so long now without it. His frame tenses involuntarily, even as he knows, vaguely in the back of his mind, that that will only make it worse, and he screams against the belt pressed passed his teeth, the sound coming as nothing more than a strangled whimpering, his eyes blinding with thick tears.

And then it comes again, the belt against his stomach, and Loki feels his breath leave his lungs, the world twisting and spinning and narrowing down to nothing but pain, pain, pain.

He doesn't know how many times his father strikes him. Only knows that, by the time he stops, his stomach feels warm and wet with his own blood, and he is weeping weakly, his body aflame with agony.

Laufey doesn't give him any kind of chance to recover though, before he's flipping him back onto his stomach. He expects the lash of the belt then against his back, against the blades of his shoulders, but the seconds drag on, and nothing happens.

It only causes Loki's fear to redouble, and he squeezes his eyes shut, terrified and confused.

“How old are you now boy?” His father suddenly asks, his voice close, and Loki realizes he's crouched down beside him. “Sixteen still? Or are you seventeen yet? I can't seem to remember.”

Loki can't answer. He prays his father doesn't actually expect him to.

“You ain't never had sex.” Laufey continues. “Well, I guess you can't really. Not with your broken body. But if you could, you wouldn't be stickin' it in anywhere anyway, would you? You're actually a faggot, ain't that right boy? You like other boys and shit.”

Loki feels dizzy and sick, like he's going to throw up.

He doesn't know what he is. Doesn't know what it is he feels, or what he's supposed to feel.

Sometimes, when he looks at other guys, he feels embarrassed and shy. Sometimes his stomach flips oddly. He doesn't know what that means. But it doesn't matter anyway. It's not like anyone would ever want him...

He wants to beg. Want to beg his father to stop, to leave him alone. But he can't even do that. 

And then, suddenly, pain explodes in his abdomen as his father's heavy boot sinks deep into his stomach, stealing his breath completely away.

Loki gasps for air, suffocation seeming to strangle his lungs, eyes wide and watering. He barely sucks in a breath before again, his father's boot connects in the same place, and Loki's head spins, whatever little strength he'd had sapping away in an instant. He can't breathe. He can't... oh God, please...

There's more pain, cracking through his face, the taste of fresh blood filling his mouth, and an explosion of white and noise, making him blind and deaf, the ringing seeming to last for minutes as his head pounds and aches with sickness. 

He's going to throw up, he thinks. He feels so sick.

Loki's mind fizzles out then, a dazed confusion washing over him, clouding his thoughts.

He hears a deep groan, but he doesn't know if it's even coming from him. And then there's a strange feeling of release, of pressure letting go, and suddenly there's a wet warmth spreading underneath him, washing over his thighs and stomach, and the smell of urine fills the air.

“Christ, he pissed himself.” He hears someone say, only their voice sounds far away, like it's coming from under water.

Loki doesn't know what's happening anymore. Doesn't know where he is.

Everything seems far away and soft and he can't think. He can't...

Vaguely he feels an almost suffocating embarrassment, but he can't remember why suddenly.

Is he dreaming, he wonders.

Or maybe he's dead. He ought to be dead, he thinks. That would be better. That would be right...

Distantly, he hears a loud banging, like someone knocking on a door, but that can't be right.

No one is at the door. No one is coming. Why would they?

“Shit...” he hears someone say. 

Whatever happens after that, Loki doesn't know. The rest of his thoughts drift and sweep away, like wisps of clouds in the wind.

//

“Loki?” Thor calls, leaning close to the door, listening. “Loki, are you in there? Is everything alright? Listen, I found your kitten outside. I think he might have gotten out through your window. Loki?”

Straining his ears, Thor listens, the feeling of unease he'd earlier had worsening, turning to dread suddenly.

He hears someone shifting around, what sounds like footsteps and hushed, frantic voices, though he can't begin to make out the words.

And he knows instantly something isn't right. Something isn't right at all.

“Loki!” He calls more urgently. “Loki, what's going on?!”

He hears no reply from his friend, only more of the same shifting around, and he's certain now there are voices talking, more than one, and pressing his ear against the door, it sounds like they're speaking some other language entirely.

Fears wraps tight round Thor's heart, surging up into his throat, nearly choking him.

“Loki, I'm coming in.” Thor calls, and isn't at all surprised when he tries the doorknob and finds it locked.

That decides it for him.

Stepping back, he places Michael down on the floor carefully, and with one, swift kick, he smashes his foot against the door, breaking it easily in.

What he sees, for a moment, doesn't even begin to register.

The place is trashed. Loki's furniture knocked over and broken into pieces. His posters torn off the walls. 

There are three men standing there, staring at him, two of them nearly as big as he is, one of them even bigger, taller and broader.

And at the biggest one's feet, naked and hands bound behind his back, is Loki, lying motionless on his stomach.

Thor's heart drops in sickening horror, and unthinkingly, he takes a step into the apartment.

The moment he does, the three men move, dashing towards the back, towards Loki's bedroom.

A blinding, red rage fills Thor then, a deafening cry tearing past his lips as he rushes after them, following them into the bedroom.

He sees them, climbing out of the opened window, and suddenly everything falls into place. It was them who opened it, he realizes. They broke in here. They climbed the fire escape and broke into the apartment, and Loki's kitten, he must have escaped out...

Loki, he thinks, remembering his friend, lying there, tied up and helpless.

He stands for a moment, hesitating. Rage still courses through his veins, and he wants badly to go after these men, these fucking bastards who did this. But... Loki needs him. He needs help. And he can't do both.

He growls in frustrated fury, watching as the men disappear from his view, down the fire escape, before forcing himself to turn and move, back out in the apartments living room.

He finds Loki, still lying there, not moving, and he rushes to his friend's side, horror and fear quickly replacing his dissipating anger.

“Loki,” he chokes out, his eyes filling fast with tears as he falls to his knees at the younger boy's side. Oh God, what did they do to him?

He notices the belt, pulled tight round the back of Loki's head, forced into his friend's mouth, and he doesn't hesitate a moment, reaching out and undoing the buckle, pulling the strap free.

Saliva and blood stick to it, pulling from Loki's mouth.

The smell of piss and blood fills Thor's nostrils, and he nearly gags, forcing the reflex down as he reaches for Loki, only minor relief washing over him as he sees his friend is still breathing. He's pissed, Thor realizes, noticing the puddle forming underneath Loki's legs. Probably from fear.

“Loki,” he tries again, placing a hand gently along the boy's shoulder. “Oh God, please...”

He hears Loki moan softly, stirring weakly under his touch.

“It's okay.” Thor tells him, even as he knows that's a lie. “It's just me. I... I'm here to help you. Loki, those men are gone. I'm going to get you free.”

His eyes shift to the thick rope binding Loki's wrists together, and he feels his stomach churn. He can already see where the skin underneath is chaffed and red.

God, who would do this to a helpless kid like Loki? Why?

He swallows thickly.

“I'm gonna cut these loose. Just... h-hold on.” He says, forcing himself to stand and moving for the kitchen, trying to remember where Loki kept his knives.

He finds one quickly and rushes back over, going again to his knees.

Whatever stupor Loki had been in, he seems to be coming out of it now, his head swaying back and forth against the floorboards.

And then, suddenly, he starts, almost violently, his head jerking, a strangled gasp slipping past his lips.

“N-n-no... no...” he slurs, voice weak and brittle. He begins to struggle weakly, uselessly. 

Thor feels his heart sink, hard and fast, his face crumpling at the agony of fear he sees in Loki.

“Loki, it's alright.” He tries desperately. “It's alright. It's me. It's Thor.”

Loki though doesn't seem to hear him, still struggling, turning his face away, tugging uselessly at the binds holding his wrists together.

“Loki, please,” Thor tries, struggling himself to keep his voice steady. Tears spring thick in his eyes, and he has to wipe them away to see. “Loki.” He puts a hand along his friend's bony back, and Loki startles badly, protesting with frail effort. “Please.” Thor tries. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

It seems to happen at once, that Loki recognizes his voice. That he becomes really aware.

He turns his face, staring up at Thor with red, tearful eyes, so full of fear and resignation, that it takes every effort of Thor's not to himself begin sobbing.

“... Th-Thor?” Loki breathes, his voice heavy with astonishment, with disbelief.

Thor nods, trying to force himself to smile.

“That's right.” He says. “It's okay Loki. I... I scared those men off. It's just me.”

“Thor?” Loki says again, like he can't accept it, like it's too much.

Thor nods again, tears slipping free down his cheeks.

“I'm gonna... I'm gonna cut the rope. Okay? J-just... hold still a second.”

Thor tries to be as careful as possible as he cuts through the thick rope around Loki's wrists, and he's grateful, and awed, by how still his friend remains. He knows it isn't easy for him.

The moment their free, he expects Loki to try and get up, but for several, long seconds, he only lies there, bringing his hands up and burying his face in them.

“Are you alright?” Thor finally asks, knowing it's a ridiculous question.

“... I went to the bathroom.” He hears Loki mutter behind his hands, humiliation thick in his tone. He's shaking then, Thor sees. Trembling.

“... That's alright.” Thor tells him. “Loki, it's alright.”

“H... he...” Loki goes on in the same, dismayed tone. “H-he... he t-told me... he s-ss-said...”

“Loki, it's alright.” Thor tries again. He doesn't know what it is those bastards did to Loki, beyond the obvious. But whatever it is, all he knows is, he has to make his friend understand that it isn't his fault. “You didn't... didn't do anything wrong.”

And then, suddenly, Loki begins to sob, the sound broken and frail.

And Thor can't stand it, can't take it. He reaches down, picking his friend up and pulling him against his chest, hugging him hard.

He notices the deep and swollen contusions across Loki's stomach, the already horrible swelling and bruising across his face, and his head swims with grief.

Oh God...

“Loki, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here now. You're okay.”

Loki clings back to him, his shaking hands burying in the material of Thor's shirt, pressing his face to Thor's chest and sobbing loudly now.

“He f-found me.” He weeps. “He found me...”

And Thor doesn't understand. Did Loki know those men?

“He found you?” He asks, confused. “Loki, who? Who found you?”

Another, harsh sob, and Loki clings harder, pressing his face closer.

“My f-ff-father...” he cries desperately. “My father...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you's to all my readers and/or reviewers! Your support means so much to me! If you have a chance, please leave me a comment!


	18. Chapter 18

Loki, thankfully, seems to hear and understand him this time, nodding weakly.

Thor nods in return, trying to give a reassuring smile. He can't help taking notice of Loki's exposed state again, feeling an awful pang. Loki shouldn't have to suffer something like this, on top of everything else, and so glancing aside, he grabs hold of a throw pillow, bringing it up and placing it carefully on Loki's lap.

Loki only blinks at him, before he folds his arms over himself, turning his face aside.

“It's okay.” Thor tells him once more. “I'll be right back.”

He stands then, starting towards Loki's room.

He tries to move quickly, not wanting to leave the other boy alone, stepping over to a cabinet of drawers and beginning to open them, searching for a pair of pants.

There's all sorts of personal items in the drawers, and Thor feels immediately guilty and hesitant as he can't help seeing some of them, photographs and what looks like a personal diary of some sort, drawings and grooming tools.

He pulls his eyes away, knowing it isn't right for him to be looking at this stuff, continuing his search though another drawer.

Finally he comes across what he's looking for, a pair of soft looking sweatpants.

Grabbing the article up, he hurries back out of the room, seeing Loki where he'd left him. Michael is sitting there with him, and Thor finds himself relieved, having in his horror completely forgotten that he'd left the little guy out in the hallway.

Loki is petting him absently, looking down at him with a vacant, lost expression, and Thor feels his heart sink.

“Hey,” he starts softly as he comes nearer, and Loki looks up at him, slightly startled. He's still crying, Thor notices, only pressing on him more the terribleness of what's happened. “I got you some pants.” He goes on when Loki doesn't say anything, holding up the article.

“... Oh.” Loki says, his voice empty. 

Thor hesitates a moment.

“I can help you into them, if... if you like.” He says. 

Loki blinks, thick tears slipping from his eyes, down his cheeks, and he wipes at them, shaking his head.

“... I can...” he starts, before his voice trails off, and he looks away.

Thor can see his skin flush brightly as again he wraps his arms around himself.

“... Okay, I'll j-just...” Thor starts, feeling awful. “I'll just leave them here and... and turn around while you pull them on, okay?”

“... Okay.” Loki says, so softly Thor almost doesn't hear.

Thor steps closer and lays the sweatpants on the cushion beside his friend.

“Don't rush yourself. Just... take as much time as you need.” He tells Loki before turning around.

He tries to keep still as he listens to Loki get dressed. It's an effort not to turn back around and help, as he can hear the younger boy struggling, his breathing audible and labored, faint sounds of pain. When he hears Loki whimper weakly, he can't help himself, looking over his shoulder.

Loki has the pants about halfway up his legs, bent over his own lap, his chest heaving with the exertion, hands trembling where they grip tight to the waistband. He's having trouble lifting himself up, Thor realizes, to get the pants up the rest of the way.

“Loki, let me help you.” He says, unable to just keep standing by and letting his friend hurt himself like this.

“I can... I can do it.” Loki insists, still trying vainly to get himself up off the cushions.

Thor knows it's going to hurt Loki's already shattered pride, but it's the right thing to do to step in and help. 

And so he doesn't ask again, simply turning around and moving towards his friend.

“Here,” he says, moving around the back of the couch and taking gentle hold of Loki under the arms. “I'll lift you up and you can pull the pants on the rest of the way.”

A hard shudder works through Loki's frame then, his hands clenching tighter where they hold the pants. For a moment, Thor thinks the younger boy is going to protest. He's clearly upset. But then his shoulders slump, whatever tension he'd held slipping out of him, and he gives a weak nod, resigned.

Thor is grateful for it, even as he feels terrible. He tries to be as gentle as he can as he picks Loki up off the couch, and Loki pulls the pants up the rest of the way.

“Don't be embarrassed.” Thor tells him, knowing how hard this is for his friend. “There's nothing to be ashamed of Loki.”

Loki doesn't say anything to that, and Thor wishes suddenly that Mom were here. She would know what to say. What to do.

“Okay, let's go. I'm going to pick you up now Loki. Alright?”

“... Don't leave Michael.” Loki suddenly says, urgency in his voice.

“Loki,” Thor starts to protest. He wants to get Loki to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“P-please...” Loki begs, and he sounds once more like he's on the verge of sobbing. “Please Thor, th-they... they might come back. They might hurt him...”

Thor's resolve breaks easily then.

“Okay.” He agrees. “We'll bring him along. Do you want to hold him?”

Loki nods, picking the kitten up and holding him against his chest.

Thor takes that as an okay to pick Loki up and head out.

Once he gets Loki downstairs and in his car, he punches in directions for the nearest hospital, and begins driving.

Loki is solemn and quiet beside him, still clutching Michael against his chest. He'd finally stopped crying, but his eyes remain red and puffy, tracks of drying tears down his cheeks, and his jaw was now swelling almost grotesquely, the area round both his eyes black and blue, as well as across the bridge of his nose, dried blood crusting round his nostrils.

And his stomach, Christ, Thor thinks, he doesn't know what they'd used to hit Loki with, but whatever it was, it had torn the boy's skin to shreds, bad enough to the point that he would probably need stitches. 

He should have dressed the wounds, Thor thinks. But he'd been in such a panic to get Loki to see a doctor, that he hadn't felt he had the time. 

“Are you okay?” Thor asks, glancing at the GPS on his phone, seeing they're close, thank God.

He catches Loki give a weak nod from his periphery, saying nothing.

“We're almost there.” Thor tells him. “You're going to be alright.”

Again, Loki stays quiet, and Thor's concern, if possible, worsens.

He needs to call Mom, he thinks. As soon as he gets Loki admitted. Tell her what happened. She isn't working today, so he doesn't think it should be a problem, her coming down. He knows she'll want to.

It's only a few minutes more before they reach the hospital, and Thor drives around frantically for a few minutes longer, searching for a parking spot.

When finally he does, he glances worriedly over at Loki, still clutching his kitten to himself. Thor knows they aren't going to be able to bring Michael in. He hopes Loki understands that.

“Hey,” he says softly. “we're here.”

Loki nods. He won't look at Thor suddenly, and Thor is struggling not to panic.

“I think... I think we aren't going to be allowed to bring Michael in.” He tries carefully. “Is it okay if we leave him here in the car? He'll be safe, I promise. I'll keep the windows slightly cracked for air.”

That finally gets Loki to look up at him. The swelling along his face has gotten worse in the short time it's taken to get here, and Thor knows it's imperative they get to see a doctor right away.

“... They won't find him?” Loki asks, his voice dry and weak.

It takes Thor a moment to understand what it is his friend is asking, and he shakes his head.

“No. Loki, I promise. They won't find him. I swear to you he'll be safe.”

For a long moment, Loki only sits there, continuing to clutch Michael, and Thor thinks he's going to have to work harder to convince his friend to leave the kitten and let him carry him to the hospital.

But finally Loki gives a single nod.

“... Okay.” He says softly.

Thor nods, relieved.

“Okay.” He says. “... Okay.”

//

Thor paces nervously back and forth, bringing the phone to his ear and waiting as it begins to ring.

They'd quickly attended to Loki, which Thor found himself endlessly grateful for, getting his friend into a wheelchair and taking him back into the ER. Thor had wanted to come, but because he wasn't family, he hadn't been allowed. The irony of that isn't lost on Thor, thinking again to those men. That had been Loki's family. Well, at least, the biggest of them had been. But remembering their faces now, Thor was starting to realize a close resemblance between them all, and with Loki too. They'd all shared those striking, sharp features. All had jet black hair and skin almost paper white. And they'd been tall, all of them. 

Thor keeps forgetting that, if Loki were able to stand, he'd be near tall as Thor himself. It was just his friend always looked so small to him, curled up in his chair. Him being so painfully thin didn't help matters.

He'd hated leaving Loki, who'd had such a stricken, confused expression on his face when they'd taken him back.

But he was in good hands now, Thor keeps telling himself, even as his patience wears thin, waiting for someone to pick up.

Finally he hears a click, and a moment later, his mother's voice coming over the line.

“Hello darling.” She says, and Thor breathes out heavily.

“Hi Mom.” He starts, already dreading telling her what's happened.

He doesn't have a choice though. Mom, with her super powers of perception, already knows something's wrong, and doesn't hesitate asking what.

“What is it?” She says. “What's wrong?”

“... Mom,” he begins, trying to build courage. He knows she's already grown attached to Loki. That she already cares deeply for his friend, and this is going to upset her so much. “Loki, he...”

“What?” She presses when he hesitates, an urgency in her voice. “Thor, what about Loki?”

“... He was attacked Mom. B-by... by his father, h... he's real father. He broke into Loki's apartment wi-with... with two other men. I think they might have been Loki's brothers or something. And they... they...”

“Where are you now?” His mom presses.

“At the hospital.” Thor tells her. “I came back up to Loki's apartment after leaving because his cat had gotten out and I was bringing him back, and that's when I... I walked in on them, and they had... they had Loki tied up and they w-were...”

“I'm coming.” His mom cuts him off. “Tell me the address. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Thor exhales in relief, telling her the address quickly.

Waiting for her to arrive is in itself painful, but still, he's almost shocked by how quickly she gets there, considering how far away they live from this part of LA.

Even more surprising to him is that Dad's come along as well, the both of them meeting him in the waiting room.

“Have you heard anything?” Mom asks immediately.

Thor shakes his head.

“Not yet.” He says. “I don't... I don't think anything was too wrong, just... he was beat up, and I thought, th-the way he is, he should be with a doctor...”

“You did the right thing son.” Dad says, slapping him on the shoulder. 

“You said it was his father?” Mom starts, her eyes deep with concern. 

Thor nods vaguely, feeling queasy as he again is reminded of what happened.

“That's what Loki said. That his father had found him.”

“And what happened to them? You told your mother there were two other men with him?”

Again, Thor nods.

“Loki's... Loki's brothers, I think, though he didn't say. They... they ran off when they saw me. Escaped out Loki's bedroom window. I would've gone after them, b-but Loki needed my help. They... they t-took his clothes off and t-tied him up...”

Mom's face seems to crumple at that, her forehead lining with pain, eyes immediately filling with tears.

“Oh God,” she breathes shakily. “how could they?”

Thor shakes his head, not having an answer for that, still wondering himself. It was so cruel, so disgusting, to attack a... a helpless child so viciously. 

And that's what Loki was. A child. A boy who was paralyzed from the waist down. He couldn't defend himself. Couldn't fight back.

Just thinking about it nearly sends Thor into a frenzy of anger, his hands unconsciously curling to fists at his sides.

“We'll worry about them later then.” Father starts. “Right now we should be thinking about keeping Loki safe. Obviously he can't stay in that apartment of his any longer.”

“No, absolutely not.” Mom says. “He'll be moving in with us.”

Thor's eyes widen, for a moment only able to gape at his mom, shocked.

“Your mother already decided that on the way here.” Dad puts in. “I wouldn't argue with her either way, even if I was opposed. As it is, on this I very much agree.”

Thor can't find the words, simply standing there, staring back at his parents.

His shock is mingled suddenly then with awe and gratitude, as it really begins to sink in what his mom and dad are saying.

“... Thank you,” he at last is able to speak, his eyes, strangely, stinging. “thank you.” He repeats, before stepping forward and hugging his mom tightly, holding onto her for several seconds before turning to his father and doing the same.


	19. Chapter 19

It seems to be hours before anyone even comes out to talk to them, though in truth, glancing down at his watch, Thor realizes it's only been an hour and ten minutes. He's been out to check on Michael several times in that space, bringing the little guy a paper cup filled with water and just sitting with him for a few minutes at a time, keeping him company. He knows Loki would want him to.

Still, it's a massive relief when the doctor at last shows.

His name tag reads "Dr. Bruce Banner", a short, kind looking man with reading glasses, his black, curly hair starting to gray at the roots.

He smiles tightly at all of them as he comes near, holding his hand out, first to Odin, then Frigga, then Thor.

"Morning." He says cheerfully. "I assume you're here for Loki?"

"That's right." Thor says, impatient and anxious, his stomach churning unpleasantly as he waits to hear what the man will say.

The doctor nods, reaching up and removing his glasses, folding them and putting them into his breast pocket.

"I understand you're the young man who brought him in?" He asks, looking up at Thor, and Thor nods.

"Is he alright?" He blurts, unable to hold back any longer.

"He's going to be." Dr. Banner tells him, and Thor exhales in relief, his shoulders slumping.

The doctor looks then to Mom and Dad, eying them carefully.

"I also understand that Loki doesn't really have any family here, is that right? You all are his friends?"

"He's going to be." Thor again starts. "We're going to adopt him."

"Thor, hold on sweetie." Mom interjects, before turning back to Dr. Banner, smiling weakly.

"That's correct." She tells the man. "For the moment, we don't have any familial ties to Loki. But what my son says is true. We were hoping in the near future to perhaps adopt him. It's Loki's decision, of course. We haven't heard what he wants yet."

Dr. Banner nods again.

"There's just some difficulty, legally speaking, with what I can and can't tell you, since you aren't related to Loki by blood. He doesn't have any relations that you can maybe contact? Tell them where he is, and that he needs..."

"His real family are the ones that put him in here!" Thor snaps, his temper flaring suddenly.

Dr. Banner turns to him, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Thor," Dad starts, but Thor just shakes his head, talking over him.

"I had to rescue him from his own father!" He goes on, eyes stinging with threatening tears. "His own father is the one that beat him to hell like that. And... and his brothers. They had him tied up and they were h-hitting him. If I hadn't..."

"Thor, calm down, please." Dad says again, putting a hand now on Thor's shoulder.

Thor realizes a moment after that he'd been yelling, and he blinks, breathing in deeply, struggling to reign his anger back in. He's embarrassed then, glancing down at the floor, feeling like an idiot.

"... Okay." Dr. Banner says after a tense moment of silence. "Okay. So... Loki isn't from this country. Do you know if he's here with his family, or..."

Frigga shakes her head.

"He's been here on his own. For a year he's told us. That's all we really know."

"And his father just showed up today?" Dr. Banner presses, looking to Thor.

Thor nods.

"We can't let him find Loki." He pleads then, frightened that that's what the doctor is planning. That he wants to contact Loki's father. "He'll try to hurt him."

"I understand." Dr. Banner tries to reassure.

He pauses then, thinking.

"Has Loki told you how old he is?" He asks after a moment.

"He said eighteen." Frigga supplies, shaking her head. "But I believe he's younger than that."

Dr. Banner nods.

"I asked him his age, and he said sixteen." He says. "I'd wager what he told me is the truth, since he was under a lot of duress when I asked him and probably wasn't thinking. Just told me the first answer that came into his mind."

Frigga nods, seeming to agree.

"So he's underage. And you're going to suggest bringing child services into this, correct?" Odin steps in then.

Thor's eyes widen.

He hadn't even thought of that.

"Well I..." the doctor begins, and Thor cuts him off.

"You can't..." he says, terrified. "he... he's got a job, and he's..."

"We aren't entirely sure if the boy is here legally." Mom says gently, halting Thor's stammering.

"Oh..." Dr. Banner says. "I see."

Mom nods.

"If it's found out he's an illegal alien, he'll be deported back to England, and likely back into the arms of his father. So you see the dilemma doctor."

Dr. Banner nods, beginning to rub at his chin.

"I do." He says, voice soft, contemplative.

"Please," Thor pleads then, unable to help it. "don't report him. If his father gets a hold of him, he'll kill him, I just know it. You can't let that happen, please."

"No," Dr. Banner shakes his head. "I don't suppose I can."

He breathes in deeply then, letting it go in a loud exhale.

"Listen, I can't bring you back to see him, since you aren't related. But since the boy has nobody else, I'm going to skirt the rules here a bit and tell you what's going on, and then I'm going to release him into your custody. What you choose to do after that is your decision. I won't call child services, if it's as you say it is."

"It is." Thor says quickly, urgently. "Believe me."

Dr. Banner, thank God, nods in acknowledgment.

"Alright." He says. "So, thankfully, Loki hasn't suffered anything too severe." He goes on, and Thor can feel himself slump in the release of tension. "But he was beat up pretty good, and for someone in his condition, that does give me concern." The doctor continues and whatever relief Thor had felt, it comes rushing back in all at once.

"Why?" He asks. "What is it?"

Dr. Banner shakes his head.

"Well, he's suffered three fractured ribs, all on his left side, and obviously some pretty nasty bruising as well. Whoever hit him, they hit him pretty hard, because he's also got a very small fracture running along his left orbital socket, and that has me a little worried because of his migraines, and also the fact he's suffering a minor concussion. And then obviously there's the fact of his paralysis. He took what looks like some pretty bad blows to his lower spine. The x-rays we took showed there's definite pronounced bruising all along the bone there. Sp he's going to likely be in a lot of pain, even more than he's already in. Right now we've got him on a morphine drip. It's a little powerful, I know, but he started complaining that the pain was getting a lot worse and pretty quickly, so we didn't want to fool around with anything that wouldn't help. Otherwise it's just superficial stuff, a few cuts and bumps. But I want to ask, and I don't know if you'll know this, but do you know how long Loki's been paraplegic? I tried asking him, and he told me he was born that way, but I can tell he wasn't. The separation of the spine is too rough. But for some reason he doesn't want to tell me."

Mom shakes her head, looking by the moment more and more concerned.

"He hasn't told us anything about it yet. But if I had to give a professional guess, I would say it's something to do with his father, and probably fear of punishment."

Dr. Banner nods.

"Are you a psychiatrist?" He asks, and Mom nods.

"Yes." She answers.

Again, the doctor nods.

"He wears these shoes." Thor interjects then, suddenly remembering, thinking it might be useful, though he doesn't know why. "These orthopedic shoes. I don't know why he would if he can't feel anything below the waist and he can't walk..." His voice trails off.

"That is interesting." Dr. Banner concedes, thinking. "Maybe something to do with phantom pain. Patients who have lost all feeling in a certain area of their body, or even patients who have lost a limb entirely, still sometimes experience pain there. It's psychosomatic. More likely is that Loki has physical therapy sessions, where they'll encourage a patient suffering from paralysis, particularly as Loki does, to still try and use their legs, try to walk by using parallel bars. Orthopedic shoes would help give him a little extra support, though for the most part, the type of shoe doesn't really matter."

Thor feels himself deflate some at that.

He hadn't realized up until that moment that, deep down, he'd been harboring hopes that the shoes meant Loki might still on occasion get feeling in his legs and feet. But from what Dr. Banner just said...

"So it isn't because he could walk..." he murmurs.

Dr. Banner shakes his head.

"I'm afraid not. Loki isn't ever going to walk again. There's been a complete separation of the spine."

Thor looks away, feeling slightly sick.

Loki is so young. He should have his whole future ahead of him to look forward to. But how can you look forward to anything when you know you'll be confined to a chair for literally the rest of your life?

"Do you think he's suffered any other permanent damage to his spinal cord?" Dad asks now, his voice sober.

"I don't think so." Dr. Banner says. "Just some really bad bruising which is going to limit his movement even more for a few weeks. He's going to need a lot of help, is the thing. Probably with dressing himself and even using the bathroom. If he's living on his own, that could be a big problem."

"We've already decided we'll be taking him into our home." Mom answers quickly. "We'll make sure to take care of him."

Dr. Banner smiles, seeming genuinely relieved.

"That's really good to hear. I'm glad." He says. He hesitates a moment, then adds... "He seems like a really sweet kid."

Mom nods.

"He is." She says softly.

Dr. Banner smiles tightly, nodding.

"Okay, well, I'm going to go back and run a few more tests, just double check everything. I'm probably going to prescribe him a month long supply of a pain med called Narco. It's pretty powerful and should be sufficient to handle the pain he's going to be in. But again, he's going to be incredibly stiff and any extra activity is going to leave him feeling pretty awful, so just be sure you can help him when he needs it."

"We will." Odin promises.

A few more words are exchanged, before Dr. Banner disappears again into the ER, and Thor and his parents are again left to wait.

/

Loki wakes in the middle of the night with his bladder screaming at him and pain so bad through his lower back and ribs it leaves him nauseous, his head spinning, tears springing instantly and involuntarily to his eyes.

He turns his face into his pillow, trying to muffle the low moan which escapes past his lips, sucking in a deep breath. It isn't enough.

He'd finally been allowed to leave the hospital after almost three hours, morning turning into afternoon by the time he'd gotten out.

Thor and his parent's had been waiting for him, and Loki had been both humiliated and overwhelmed as they'd all begun telling him that he couldn't go back to his apartment, that it was out of the question, that he would be staying with them from now on, living with them in their mansion.

Loki hadn't understood what was going on. Not really.

He'd felt frightened, an irrational terror choking him, suffocating him with the idea that he was somehow being taken in. That he was going to end up in the exact same situation which he'd been trying to escape. Locked up, hidden away, a prisoner.

He'd known that was absurd. Thor would never do that to him, and though he'd only known the others a short time, he knew, deep down, they never would either.

Still, logic had little sway to him then, and all he'd been able to do was stare blankly, not knowing what to do or say, too afraid to ask any questions, or to say aloud what had him feeling so scared.

Thor's mother must have realized it, somehow, because she'd sat down with him then and began explaining in more detail what they were trying to do, telling him slowly and carefully, so that he would understand. Telling him that they were just trying to protect him, to keep him safe from his own family.

Loki had understood that, and he'd believed her, because he couldn't imagine a woman so kind would ever try to deliberately fool him.

Still, when the fog had at last started to clear, and Loki had begun to really grasp his situation, the worry had returned. What was he going to do about his job? He couldn't afford to lose it. He was already in so much debt over so many things, and if he couldn't go in, he was going to get fired for sure. They had already been looking for any excuse to get rid of him, he knew that. Knew he wasn't ideal, that because he was in a wheelchair, he was slow and ineffective in a lot of areas. Knew that Darcy so often had to cover for him because he couldn't do half the tasks expected of him with any kind of efficiency or success.

He'd begun to blubber aloud about it, unthinking, making a complete fool out of himself. He knew how it must look to Thor and his family. How pathetic, when they had so much money and it was such a low level job.

But Thor as ever had been so kind, telling him not to worry, that he would go into the library first thing Monday morning and talk with his boss, tell him what was going on and make sure that he still had his position by the time he was ready to go back.

Loki hadn't known what to say. Hadn't known what to say to any of them. Hadn't understood why they were being so kind to him, so generous.

He'd stammered out a thank you, his eyes stinging, and Thor had simply told him that was what friends were for.

Loki still doesn't understand.

Like he doesn't understand how it is that he's here, back in this giant house, sleeping now on Thor's bed, while Thor sleeps quietly across the room on a blow up mattress, Michael curled up at his own feet.

Thor had told him to make a list of all the things he wanted picked up from his apartment, and that he would go back there some time tomorrow and get them for him.

Loki hadn't managed to do even that yet, still trying to figure it all out, trying to adjust.

Everything was moving so quickly, and he still felt sick with fear that somehow his father and brother's would find him again, would come and steal him back, bring him back to London, to that flat.

He knows he's safer here. He knows that. But he can't stop thinking it won't matter. That if his father found him once, he'll do it again, and this time he won't waste any time, he'll just take him and leave and he'll never see Thor or his family, won't see Michael or Darcy ever again. Won't see anyone ever again, because his father will kill him, sooner or later he'll kill him.

Trying to shove the thoughts from his mind, the pressure on his bladder growing increasingly worse by the second, the pain in his back and ribs threatening to make him sick, Loki begins trying to push himself up. He's got to get to the bathroom, he thinks almost desperately. He doesn't think he can hold it much longer.

Only he doesn't realize how bad it is.

The second he manages to get himself up to a sitting position, he feels his bladder let go, horror rushing through him as he realizes what's happening, and he looks down, seeing the front of his pajama pants suddenly darken with spreading liquid, the smell of urine filling the air.

For a long moment, Loki can only sit there, staring in disbelief. And then it hits him.

He's just wet the bed.

He's just wet Thor's bed.

Oh God... oh... oh God, he can't...

Shock turns to panic and sudden, overwhelming fear as vicious, horrible memories wash through his mind. Memories of when he'd first gotten back from the hospital in London, after he'd fallen, after he'd been... and... and he hadn't been able to control his bladder. He'd... he'd kept peeing the bed then, and Laufey had... he'd been so angry, so angry. He'd...

Loki feels like he's suffocating, a sharp gasp slipping from his throat as he sucks in air desperately, his eyes filling with sudden, thick tears.

Oh God, God, Thor is going to kill him. He's going to be so angry. He's going to...

"Loki?"

He freezes, hearing Thor's groggy, sleep heavy voice call out to him.

Oh Jesus... Oh God...

"Loki?" Thor calls again, and suddenly the older boy is sitting up, reaching out and flipping a switch, the room flooding with light.

Loki turns his face away immediately, horrified and paralyzed with fear.

"Loki, what's wrong?" Thor goes on, his voice now fully awake, filled with concern. "What is it?"

Loki shakes his head, not trusting his voice then. He can't stop crying, can't stop shaking suddenly, and he's such an idiot, such a loser, nothing idiot, and Thor is going to kill him. He's going to hate him...

"Hey, hey, hey..." Thor says, and Loki can hear him throw his own covers off, getting up off his mattress and coming closer.

Loki feels the panic in his chest swell, thinking that Thor is going to see, he's going to see what he's done, and he's going to be so angry, and Loki doesn't know what to do.

And so he wraps his arms around himself and turns his face away more, wishing he could run, knowing he can't because his legs are broken, just like the rest of him, and all he can do now is sit here and face whatever it is that's going to happen.

"Loki, what is it? You're crying. Why are you...?"

Thor's voice trails off, and Loki knows then that he's seen, and he feels his own cheeks heat, burning with humiliation and despair, fear forcing a sob from his throat.

"Oh..." Thor says, and Loki's eyes squeeze shut, half expecting to be slapped. "Okay. Okay. That's okay." Thor goes on softly, and then he's right there, his big hand resting gently against Loki's back, rubbing up and down. "That's okay Loki. Come on, don't cry. It's alright."

Loki doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why Thor is being so nice now, why he doesn't sound angry, doesn't sound disgusted. This is, oh Christ, this is the second time in less than a day that Thor has seen him wet himself. He's supposed to be nearly a man, and here he is, pissing his own pants like a baby. He doesn't understand how Thor can be anything but repulsed by him.

"I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Loki stammers out, not knowing what else to say. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Thor says. "Loki, it's okay. Just... it's just an accident. Don't be sorry."

"... Y-you... you must think I'm dd-disgusting." Loki cries, unable to help it, hating himself even more.

"I don't." Thor says, his voice oddly firm. "I don't think that Loki. You... you've been through a lot today, and you just need a little help."

Again, Loki sobs, horrified and confused.

"What happened?" Thor asks softly. "Did you... did you need to use the bathroom and couldn't make it to your chair or...?"

Loki shakes his head, his face burning harder still.

"... I woke up." He says, almost too softly to hear. "I h-had... I had to pee really badly and I... I sat up and..."

He trails off, too embarrassed to finish.

"Alright." Thor says when he realizes Loki isn't going to continue. "Don't worry. Don't worry about it. We'll just get you cleaned up then. Okay? It's not a big deal. Hey, Loki, look at me."

Loki sits for a moment frozen, too afraid to do as Thor asks, until the older boy reaches out and takes gentle hold of his chin, turning his face towards him.

"It's not a big deal." Thor repeats when Loki is looking at him.

Loki blinks, fat tears slipping from his eyes, down his cheeks, and Thor doesn't say anything about it, only bending down and wrapping an arm round Loki's back, hooking it under his arm pits.

"Come on." He says. "Let's get you into the bathroom and we'll get you cleaned up."

A moment later, Thor is picking him up bodily, not even complaining about how his urine soaked pajama bottoms are touching his arms, setting him into his wheelchair.

"... I'm sorry I woke you." Loki says feebly, still not sure what to say, still mortified with embarrassment.

"It's okay." Thor says as he wheels him forward, into the adjoining bathroom.

Loki can already feel his bladder filling up again, and he remembers then how much water he'd drunk before he'd gone to bed. He thinks he may choke to death on his humiliation.

"... I have to pee again." He says in a small voice when Thor switches the bathroom light on. God, he's such an idiot. He hates himself so much.

"Okay." Thor says easily, like it isn't even a problem at all. "Here, lets get you out of these dirty clothes first, and then I'll get you on the toilet. I'm gonna run a bath for you after, so you can get cleaned up here."

They'd been through this already, earlier in the day, several times even. Loki doesn't know why he should still feel so embarrassed about Thor seeing him naked, when the older boy has already seen him so many times.

None of the bathrooms in Thor's house were equipped with handle bars, like Loki really needed. And with the pain he'd been in, he hadn't been able to get himself propped up on the toilet seats at all. Thor had had to help him, even offering himself for the job, though Loki couldn't understand why he would want to.

It's worse now though, with the pain from earlier seeming doubly bad, and sitting in the uncomfortable wetness of his own urine.

His pajama bottoms are sticky and clinging to his skin as Thor helps him out of them.

Loki's arms shake as he tries to hold himself up off the chair to make the job easier, knowing he's failing as Thor tugs at the garments.

"... I'm sorry." Loki mumbles, disgusted with himself.

Thor just shakes his head.

"It's okay." He repeats, finally getting the pajama bottoms and soaked through underwear all the way off.

Loki can't help how his hands move instinctively to cover himself up, knowing how stupid it is anyway. Thor's already seen everything.

"Okay. The shirt now." Thor says, his hands moving to unbutton his pajama top, slipping it off his shoulders a few moments later.

And then Loki is sitting there, naked and shivering.

His embarrassment from before had shoved his fresh pain to the back of his mind, but it was starting to come back to his consciousness now, and again he was beginning to feel a sick churning in his stomach from it, sweat breaking out across his forehead.

"Are you in pain?" Thor asks, clearly noticing, and Loki can only nod weakly, feeling abruptly like he might vomit.

"Alright. I'm gonna go get your pain meds. I'll be right back. Don't move."

Loki almost wants to laugh at that. Where exactly would he go?

Thor's gone only a few seconds it seems before he's coming back into the bathroom, holding a single pill in his hand and a glass of water in the other.

"Here you go." He says, handing them to Loki, who takes them gratefully, swallowing the pill down.

"Okay, toilet." Thor goes on, lifting the bowls lid, and then he's picking Loki back up again, helping him down onto it, hooking his hands under the pits of his arms to keep him balanced.

Loki hadn't wanted Thor to knows this about him, that he has to pee sitting down, like a girl, though he guesses, logically, anyone could have figured it out, considering he can't stand. It's still humiliating to him, and to have to do it in front of Thor...

"It's okay Loki." The older boy tells him for what seems the hundredth time, and Loki realizes he's holding it in.

He swallows thickly, his mouth feeling dry. But he forces himself to let go a moment later, his eyes casting to the floor, embarrassment once more heating his cheeks at the sound of his pee hitting the water.

Thor doesn't even seem to notice, keeping one hand hooked under Loki's arm as he reaches out towards the bathtub, turning the faucet and beginning to run the water.

"This should just take a few minutes." The older boy says absently, testing the temperature with his fingers before looking back to Loki. "Are you doing alright?"

Loki nods weakly, keeping his eyes fixed to the floor.

They fall into silence then for a few minutes, and Loki wishes he could just disappear. He's grateful to Thor for not saying anything else as the tub fills.

When it's about halfway full, Thor stands.

"Alright," he says. "let's get you in."

Loki feels like a child with the way Thor picks him up so easily, like it's nothing at all, his humiliation refusing to ebb.

Still, it's a relief when Thor places him carefully down in the water, the warmth of it instantly relaxing. Just knowing it's washing away his mess is in itself a relief.

Thor waits with him some minutes more as the tub continues to fill, helping Loki to lay against the back.

Loki still can't look at him, too ashamed, continuing to wipe at his eyes as tears form and fall silently.

"... I'm sorry." He mumbles out again, unable to help it. He knows he must be starting to irritate Thor.

"Don't worry about it." Is all Thor says though, his big hand coming up, ruffling Loki's hair gently, pushing it behind his ears.

Loki swallows thickly, sucking in a deep breath.

"... N-no one... no one's ever treated me l... like you." He says softly, not even knowing why.

"... I know." Thor says after a moment, his voice sounding strained.

"No one's ever... e-ever been as k-kind to me as you." Loki goes on.

"I know Loki."

"... I'm scared Thor." He admits then, finally.

"Loki," Thor starts, but Loki keeps talking, unable to stop himself now.

"What if... wh-what if he finds me again?" He says, voice trembling. "What if he finds me?"

"Loki, that isn't going to happen." Thor tells him. "Hey," he starts when Loki just shakes his head, tears blinding his eyes. He feels the older boy take gentle hold of his face then, turning it up towards him. "I swear to you, that isn't going to happen Loki. I won't let it."

Loki can only stare back at him, his heart hammering painfully now in his chest.

Thor stares back at him, his gaze intense and unflinching, and it's a struggle for Loki not to turn away.

"Do you trust me?" He asks then, and Loki blinks, for a moment his voice lost to him.

"Do you trust me Loki?" He repeats, more firmly, and Loki nods, hot tears running down his face.

Thor nods in return.

"Then you know you're safe with me." He says. "You know I mean it when I say I won't ever let those bastards near you again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to my readers and/or reviewers! Your support means so much to me guys!


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